


The Sweetest Submission

by erin_babbit



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erin_babbit/pseuds/erin_babbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late 19th Century England AU. Completely inspired by Jane Austen. Even though novels with happy endings are her favorite to read, Katniss Everdeen is quite fickle about love in real life. She meets a man from London that make those novels seem like rubbish. Complete and utter fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Engaged

            You can always tell when a woman has been recently engaged: cheeks constantly flushed pink, a shy yet beaming demeanor about them, modest.

            My dear sister is quite the opposite. Within an hour of Rory Hawthorne’s proposal, I am sure the whole town knows. She has sashayed through the house, singing songs of love and inviting everyone who stops by to congratulate her to have tea. My sister does not like to hide her emotions. She embraces them to the fullest and shouts them from the mountain tops.

            I am not nearly as jubilant about anything.

            But I am happy for Prim. Even if my actions are a tad restrained. I approve of the union; after all, the Hawthornes have been long time family friends, but the boasting I could do without.

            “Such a fine choice for a husband!” My mother exclaims.

            “As if she had a choice,” I snort, “That boy has had his claim on you since you were twelve.”

            “Don’t delude it. Katniss. It has been true love from the start” Prim squeals again. There’s another knock on the door. Another admirer I’m sure and I’m quite sick of tea by now, so I excuse myself to the veranda.

            My Uncle Haymitch is sitting on the steps, nursing a glass of amber liquid. I sit beside him, tucking the skirt of my dress around my knees.

            “She’s already told me the date they wish to marry,” He tells me.

            “Oh?”

            “Yes. Midway into April. I think it should be an affair worthy of a queen!”

            I laugh, “But dear Uncle, I forbid you pay for this celebration…”

            He cuts me off, “I will have none of that, Katniss. I promised your mother I would take care of you and that includes weddings. I shall have nothing short of the best for our Primrose. Which reminds me…” He pulls out a small drawstring bag from his pocket and places it in my hand. “When you take your afternoon walk, you can drop this very last payment off to Mr. Thresh.”

            “The very last?”

            “The very last indeed.” He stumbles to his feet and makes his way over to the door. “I await the day that I may pay for your wedding, Katniss. That will be a man among boys!” he exclaims, the door slamming behind him.

 

* * *

 

             I collect my closest friend, Madge Undersee on my walk into town.

            “What shall be the purpose of our walks now?” She asks after I tell her the news about the contents of my purse.

            “Good company, my dear friend.”

            She laughs, “I will accompany you back to your house this afternoon, as I understand congratulations are in order for your sister.”

            “Yes, yes. Please do make a fuss over her.”

            Madge is the sole keeper of a very big secret my family has kept for the last few years. While there is always speculation of the events that followed my father’s death, Madge knows the truth. My father, unbeknownst to myself or my mother, was in a lot debt due to gambling, a very new diversion that usually is reserved for the rich, as well as a few bad investments. My father was wonderful man, though he made many mistakes. Upon his death, we were flooded with the debts he owed and simply did not have the money to pay it. His half-brother, Haymitch Abernathy took us in before any real damage could be done to our reputations, although the rumors had slowly started to churn. Most were ridiculous; some held truth. Haymitch has amended the debts slowly but surely. In between all of this, he has provided my family with a comfortable living and the offering of a dowry for my sister and me.

            He has also given us the proper care that my mother could not after my father’s death. She did not take it well in the least and fell ill almost immediately after we had buried him. It was weeks before she moved from her bed and months before she even went into town. Prim tended to her as she always had, with love and patience. I, on the other hand, became distant from her, unforgiving for the selfishness of her actions. She did not care for our grief, only for her own. It is only recently that I have been able to carry on conversations with her.

            My uncle’s faithful housemaid, Miss Effie, is one of decorum despite her being the help. She helped Prim and I continue with our reading and writing studies when mother would not. She also taught us a few skills: sewing and embroidery, cooking and the occasional lesson in French. Prim delights in all these while I am clumsy at all of them. 

            After dropping off the heavy purse to an exuberant Mr. Thresh, I stop by the florist to pick up fresh flowers for Prim. She enjoys them so much on the table at dinner and I cannot think of a better occasion than this to have them. While browsing, there seems to be an absurd amount of chattering about a bachelor from London coming to stay here with family. I sigh. The ladies in this town love to hear when a bachelor is on his way.

            Madge whispers to me, “This poor boy from London will loathe being here with all this attention. That is why boys from London stay in London.”

            I laugh. “He must not be here quite yet or he would smell the desperation in the air.”

            Madge pulls on the shawl of our fellow neighbor, Clove Chetwood. “Pray tell, who is this boy everyone whispers about?”

            “Oh, Madge! Mr. Peeta Mellark, of course,” she answers.

            “Who is Peeta Mellark?” I ask.

            “Katniss, I swear you know nothing of families of stature. He is Winston Mellark’s son. The banker?”

            We stare at her. Clearly we are not in on the latest gossip. Clove turns from us, exasperated. “You two!”

           

* * *

            Making our way to the cobblestone path to my home, we notice the well-poised carriage of our neighbor across the way, Sae Sherbourne.

            “Seems the news has made it to Mrs. Sherbourne. I’m sure Prim is beside herself.”

            “And of course she will insist on a party,” Madge adds.

            “Of course.”

            As soon as the door is opened, I can hear Prim chattering about the events of this morning for the hundredth time today. Mrs. Sherbourne is enthusiastic as ever. Effie takes the flowers from me at the door and scoots me in towards our company. We enter the sitting room, removing our bonnets and bowing before we take our seats across from my sister and our guest.

            Mrs. Sae Sherbourne is a robust woman with a distinctively loud but calming voice. She knows everything about everyone and indeed loves to throw parties and have large dinners where half the town is invited.

            Her eyes are practically twinkling. “This is such wonderful news. Such a handsome man. And I wager you’ll have even more beautiful children.”

            Prim blushes. “You are too kind Mrs. Sherbourne.”

            She pats Prim’s hand, “You Everdeen girls with your manners. Please remember to call me Sae. I shall not have these formalities like we are merely acquaintances!”  She turns to Madge and me, “Perhaps my old ears could hear of two more engagements before the year is out? It would do them good and it _is only_ March.”

            Madge giggles and I smile politely. Out of the two of us, Madge’s engagement will come well before mine and I believe we are all aware of it. But Sae keeps hopeful, just as my mother and Prim and Haymitch do.

            “Well,” Sae continues, “I do believe this would be a perfect excuse for an assembly!” Prim, of course cannot hide her enthusiasm.

            “Oh, but…” She stops me.

            “I will not take no for an answer. We will have it on Thursday.  That way my nephew will be here for it.”

            “You’re nephew?” Prim asks.

            “Oh, yes. He seems to be the buzz about town. Mr. Peeta Mellark. His father is my brother. And while I do not care for his mother, Fanny, I am quite fond of the boys. He hasn’t visited in years. Just before you moved here with Haymitch, I believe.”

            “Oh how lovely! What does he do?” Prim carries on, too nosey for her own good. I shoot her a look.

            “He is a man of the arts. A very good one for his age. He writes and paints and such.”

            “And how old is he?”

            “Prim, do not pry,” I scold her.

            “No, no, quite alright. He is two and twenty, just a year older than Katniss. A very charming fellow but very particular. It has always baffled me as to why he has no wife.”

            This intrigues me. Men of that stature with a pocketful of money usually do not have to be very particular. And they know it.

 

* * *

 

            As I walk Madge back home, she brings up Mr. Mellark. “Perhaps he will be a man that will tempt Katniss Everdeen?”

            “Oh, hush! I am far too boring. And the rest of the girls here are far too concerned with ribbons and bonnets to fit his ‘particular’ taste. I’m afraid that Mr. Mellark will be sorely disappointed in the stock he finds here.”

            “Oh, Katniss! I know you believe in love. You read far too many stories about the subject not to.”

            “I do, indeed. But you cannot think someone as stubborn as I will just throw myself at anyone now do you?” I change the subject to Gale and his return home from his tour with the Militia which always makes Madge blush. Mr. Mellark is all but forgotten. 


	2. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of Mr. Mellark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special thanks to my beta, katnissinme who made this chapter pretty and gave me a boost in confidence!

            I am often found walking the worn pathways in the woods that border our town. The Seam, as everyone calls it, is just outside of London but not quite far enough out where grand mansions with sprawling acreage can be found. It is the place that most people from said mansions stay in to rest prior to their arrival in the bustling city. We do see quite a bit of traffic on the dusty main road. The passage along and on into the forest is quieter. And I have a purpose: I adore finding flowers and herbs from the plant book my father compiled and pressing them in between the pages. My father was quite fond of flora and recorded everything he learned in a journal. Effie showed me how to properly press flowers after my first failed attempts. The end result of those was a clump of petals. Now I am able to manipulate them to look just as they did when I plucked them from their stems. She is always eager to see what I have brought back with me.

            Of course the inches thick of dirt that grace my skirts when I return make her frown.

            I still haven’t told her about climbing the London Planes where I most often perch myself to read. I fear she may faint.

            On this Tuesday, I am to be back at a certain time to go into town with my mother and Prim to find a new dress for this very important assembly. While I see no difference with every other event Sae has hosted, my mother insists we look our best for the couple of the hour.  

            I have found a perfectly fine dress in an emerald green to my liking within a half hour of arriving at the dress shop. Prim insists it is too plain.

            “How is this too plain? The color alone makes me think of luxury.”

            “But Katniss, where are the brooches and sashes and lace? Perhaps we could drape a ribbon or two around your waist.”

            “My dear sister, I assure you, it does not matter what I look like. Everyone will only be surrounding you and Rory and providing good cheer and congratulations.” I tuck a curl behind her ear and she is off to try for another dress. It is perhaps by the eighth dress that I start to think of her search for a wedding dress and let out a sigh. Uncle Haymitch will surely be parted from his fortunes before Prim’s whims are sated.

           

* * *

 

            The night of the assembly has our household in a flurry. I find myself a spot in the sun on the window seat in my and Prim’s bedroom and read. All the while, Miss Trinket, my mother and sister are floating back and forth worrying about anything and everything. I dress in a short amount of time and have my mother braid my hair and pin it up. I manage to pull Haymitch away from his newspaper long enough to shout at him to get dressed.

            We take the carriage the few miles to Sae’s home, the Wheat House. We are greeted with the soft glow of gaslight and the music of a string ensemble. As with most of Sae’s parties, it seems the whole town is in attendance. Rory waits at the door for Prim and am able to get a hello in before the young girls of town flock to them and insist on seeing the ring. I am willingly ushered away by Madge into the State Room.

            “Someone has already asked about your presence” she whispers.

            “Who?”

            “One Mr. Hugh Marvel. He is under the impression you are starting to warm up to him.”

            “Does he ever give up? I have started to loathe these outings. He will not give me a moment’s peace once I am found.”

“Enobaria has had her eye on him for months now. Perhaps he has finally given in to her charm and will have nothing to do with you.” She laughs.

            “If only!”

            We make our way to the front of the room where the fireplace is located, our usual spot of comfort. But tonight it is not unoccupied.

            Sae stands with three people, all to look around my age. She is talking quite animatedly, the feather in her hair swishing with the nod of her head. As soon as I am just behind her the eyes of the blonde boy to whom she is speaking lift to meet mine.

            “Oh.” I say barely above a whisper. He does not turn away. He smiles at me, the corners of eyes crinkling slightly. My pulse quickens.

            “There you are my dear!” Sae says. “Already lost your sister I see. I want you to meet some very dear people.” She ushers Madge and I into their circle.

            “Miss Madge Undersee, Miss Katniss Everdeen, allow me to introduce to you,” she gestures to the small woman in blue, “Mrs. Annie Odair, wife of this young man, Mr. Finnick Odair.” Madge and I bow slightly as do they. Annie is petite with a crown of dark curls around her head and eyes as green as the forest I frequent. She smiles shyly at us. Mr. Odair is a very tall gentleman with bronzed hair and sun-kissed skin and he smiles so widely, I am sure I can count all his teeth.

            “And this is my precious nephew, Mr. Peeta Mellark.” I curtsy, dipping my head low as to avert my gaze from his. I now understand the gossip for he is certainly a sight to behold.

            “It is lovely to meet you ladies. I am quite familiar with your names. My aunt has told me wonderful things about both of you, including the happy news for your sister, Miss Everdeen.”

            “Thank you sir. You must congratulate her in person. She would be delighted to meet you.”

            Sae pipes in, “Oh yes, I must find her! After all, she is my guest of honor!” And she sashays away to tend to what she does best.

            “Undersee? I dare say the name seems familiar to me.” Mr. Odair asks.

            “Oh yes. My father is a judge.”

            “Ah, a kind judge if I have heard rumor correctly.”

            Madge chats about her father to the Odairs. I have tuned her out a bit, becoming quite aware of the man who stands next to me. His suit is tailored well. His navy waistcoat is neatly pressed and the collar of his shirt sits high, the blonde curls at the back of his neck laying on the edge of the fabric. Although he is not looking at me, I feel certain he is aware of me too.

            Prim appears with Rory for a short time for introduction and then flits off like a hummingbird, back into the crowd.

            As the conversation shifts to a new subject and Peeta and I are all but forgotten, he turns to me. “My aunt has told me a great deal about you Miss Everdeen. I feel as though we are already friends.”

            I smile. “I must confess Mr. Mellark, you have me at a disadvantage. I do not know much about you. I am aware she has three nephews, but I have not pried. However the fondness with which she speaks of you and your brothers makes me delighted to make your acquaintance.”

            “She has mentioned your fondness for the trails.”

            “I do love them, yes. I am fond of walking in general but the forest holds a special place.”

            “I’m quite curious to see them. Perhaps one day I could beg your indulgence as my guide,” he pauses and I blush, “W-with company of course.”

            He shifts his legs slightly, bringing my attention down. It is then that I notice he clutches a cane. I stare for a moment too long though.

            “It is good for my leg. I assure you I can keep up.”

            “Oh! No, I-I do not think that at all, Mr. Mellark. I-I…”

            “I only tease Miss Everdeen. A tactic I use to make the cane a little less inelegant.” He gives me a wink.

            I let out a laugh as he does.

            We are interrupted by a shriek of surprise. “Gale!”

            I turn to see Gale Hawthorne, clad in his red uniform, smiling as Madge runs towards him but stops short, so as not to attract too much attention. She offers her hand and he lays a soft kiss atop her glove. She leads him over to us.

            He looks as though he has not shaved in a week and does not care. “Miss Everdeen. Always a pleasure to see you.”

            “So good to see you home once again, Mr. Hawthorne,” I reply as I curtsy in response.

            Madge’s cheeks are flushed as she swiftly makes introductions between Gale, the Odairs and Mr. Mellark before excusing herself with Gale.

            Annie turns to us. “What a precious pair. Are they engaged?”

            “Not presently, Mrs. Odair, but the whole town feels as though it shall be announced soon. I’m afraid he has been absent for the past few months.”

            Sae appears once again and whisks the Odairs away, giving me an encouraging smile. Mr. Mellark and I are left standing by the fireplace. Even though we do not speak for several minutes, I am enjoying myself.

            “I do not wish to keep you from your aunt, Mr. Mellark.” I remark out of politeness. I do not want him to go.

            “Nonsense. My aunt had me stationed at the door for quite some time before you arrived. I am happy to be in a corner of the room. You are by far the most endearing person I have met tonight. Although I appreciate the enthusiasm I have been shown”

            I arch my eyebrow at him. “How so?”

            “I am always well aware of the excitement a man from the city brings to a small town. Have you not heard?”

            “Heard what exactly?”

            “I’m husband material.” And he snorts.

            I let out a bark of laughter before covering my mouth with a gloved hand. “I apologize. That was inappropriate.” But then I laugh again.

            He laughs with me. “Quite alright, Miss Everdeen. It was meant to be witty.”

            I laugh again because I cannot help it.

            “You have a lovely laugh.”    

            My cheeks feel warm. We stand with silly grins on our faces for another moment.

            He clears his throat, “Miss Everdeen, do you dance?”

            “Not if I can help it Mr. Mellark.”

            “Oh, well, that’s good. I do not care for dancing either.”

            I don’t think I have ever heard the words uttered from someone’s mouth other than my own. “Oh, well then, I shall make a note that if I see you dancing it is against your will. I will create a diversion so you may escape!”

            “I shall forever be indebted to you!” And we dissolve in laughter.

            That is until the shrill voice of Delly Cartwright is ringing in my ears.

            Delly is a very pretty girl and very aware of the fact. Her dresses barely cover her chest and her hair is almost always adorned with some sort of monstrosity. She is obnoxiously loud and full of gossip. I have never been able to hide the scowl on my face whenever she appears.

            “Oh Mr. Mellark! There you are! I would love if you would come meet a few of my friends. They cannot wait to make your acquaintance!” And she tugs his arm to follow her. He stays planted in place.

            “Miss Cartwright, I am actually discussing a matter with Miss Everdeen. Perhaps a bit later?”

            She looks over to me as if she did not notice me, a tactic she seems to adopt in my presence. “Oh! Good evening Miss Everdeen. We will be but a moment. Surely you don’t mind, do you?” She is already dragging him away, his cane bumping alongside of him.

            “As if I had a choice,” I call after her, but they have disappeared into the crowd.

            It is an odd feeling that sweeps over me when I am left alone. I have not had an easy conversation with anyone besides my family or Madge in quite some time. Mr. Mellark is funny, a rare trait to find in many men these days, and smiles so easily. It is as if my imagination conjured him. I shake my head to clear the thought.

* * *

 

            Madge and Gale come to join me, their faces flushed from dancing. “Oh Katniss! You must come dance!”

            “No, no. You can dance the next one for me.”

            Gale grabs three glasses from a passing server’s tray. “I see Delly has taken Mr. Mellark captive.”

            I turn to look where Gale is gazing to find Mr. Mellark only half interested in the conversation at hand. His eyes dart around to the people surrounding him, eventually looking past them and finding me, one corner of his mouth quirks up into a half-smile.

            “So, Mr. Mellark then…” Madge says.

            I whip my head back around to her. “Oh, hush. He is just being a gentleman, trying to keep a stick-in-the-mud company.”

            “Didn’t he ask you to dance, Miss Everdeen?”

            “He did and I told him I did not care to dance.”

            “And then what did he say?” Madge leans in.

            “He said he did not like dancing either.”

 They both stare at me for a second and then Madge starts laughing. “Well, Miss Everdeen, I do believe you have found your match.”

* * *

 

 

Delly seems to pull Mr. Mellark all around the room. I fear I may have lost him for the night, although he seems to seek me out over the shoulders of his company. Regrettably, I am unable to dodge Mr. Marvel the entire night as I had hoped.

“Ah, Miss Everdeen. You look lovely tonight.”

I sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Marvel.” In true Hugh Marvel fashion, his eyes dip to the bust of my dress.

“Would you care to dance?”

“I must decline. My ankle has been bothering me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to inspect it?”

I am positive my face has been twisted into a look of disgust. “Ah, no thank you. I shall keep my skirts around my ankles, Mr. Marvel.”

* * *

 

 

            I am able to be in the company of my sister for the rest of the evening. She is radiant and kind to every ‘congratulations’ and does not tire of the attention. Rory’s face keeps a shade of pink; I am sure he has never gotten this much attention in his life. I believe it to be a breath of fresh air to everyone; two people marrying for love and not status or wealth.

            We retrieve a very drunk Haymitch from a corner chair and say our goodbyes well after midnight, thanking Sae for a wonderful evening. My mother and I haul Uncle Haymitch into the carriage.

            “Miss Everdeen!” I hear behind me.

            I spin on my heel. There is Peeta Mellark in a hobbled but hurried walk towards me. I look around nervously to find both my mother and my sister pretending not to hear as they climb into the cab, smirking.

            He slows in front of me, “Miss Everdeen. I wanted to apologize for not continuing our conversation.”

            “No apology is necessary, Mr. Mellark.”

            “I also wanted to thank you for laughing at my jokes. Most are too proper to see the humor in things.”

            I lower my head slightly to hide the grin steadily growing across my cheeks.

            “Perhaps my aunt and I could come for tea sometime in the next few days?”

            I bite my lip. “Yes. We would be delighted to reciprocate your hospitality this evening.”

            He gently tugs my hand from my side, barely pressing his lips atop my hand, “Until then Miss Everdeen.” He walks backwards a ways before turning and gliding back into the manor.

            Prim has a smug look on her face when I sit across from her. “You like him.”

            I regard her sharply, “I esteem him.”

            “Katniss, do not think you can be coy with me.”

            “Prim, he is not a complete imbecile like the rest of the men in this town are. Of course I like him. Think nothing further of it.”

            She put her hands up defensively.

* * *

 

 

            I lie awake in bed for what seems like hours once we return home. I begin to think of all the time I have spent worrying over my father and then my mother. I worry about Prim. I want the best for her: a man she loves who could take care of her, a household to run and children to raise. I worry about Haymitch and his love for the spirits he indulges in and how I could ever repay him for keeping us safe. I worry about Madge every time Gale goes away. I worry about being alone for the rest of my life because I choose to want to connect with someone. I worry the men I have turned away, much to my parents’ dismay, were the only ones destined to show an interest in my hand. I bury my head in romantic novels to escape. My mother has always accused the stories I read of creating a false image of love and marriage. She insists it is not like that at all. And then she will bring up my father and the dishonor he did to us, leaving us to fend for ourselves. After she has mentioned him, she locks herself in her room for days at a time. I sigh and turn on my side.

            For a moment Mr. Mellark enters my thoughts, with his flaxen hair and blue eyes full of kindness. I let him linger there, hoping to drag this image over into my slumber. I don’t think about what it means.

            I shall worry about that tomorrow. 


	3. Tea for Two in a Crowded Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of something quite nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thanks to my beta, katnissinme who fixes the jumbled mess of words I send her into something everyone can enjoy. You are the best!

            I have seen the dressmaker’s shop more in the past two days than my own home. But to see Prim in her gown trimmed with lace, twirling in front of the looking glass is worth the trip to town every time.

            Of course, she does stray from talking about the wedding long enough to aggravate me. “So, do you know when we might expect Mr. Mellark for tea?”

            “Sae is coming as well.”

            “Well, yes, but it’s just good manners. It’s only him that matters.”

            “That is not true. I enjoy Sae’s company.”

            “Mmhmm.”

            We make our way to the produce market to pick up a few things for Effie when I spot Mr. Mellark speaking with Rowland Gloss over the apples. _Anyone but Rowland Gloss_ , I think. Prim has already spotted them, of course, and is pulling me over to them before I can protest.

            “Mr. Mellark! Mr. Gloss! How lovely to see you both out and about.”

            Rowland Gloss is quite a handsome man. Women in this town are convinced he surely is a god from Greek mythology. He is very sweet to boot, sickeningly so. He bows his head, “Hello Miss Everdeen. You are looking quite well.” His voice is clipped, clearly only saying things out of politeness. “If you will excuse me. Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Mellark. And lovely to see you again Miss Primrose.” And then with his hat back on, he is off in a dash.

            Prim’s eyes dart to me and back to Mr. Mellark who looks a tad confused. “Well, that was…odd.”

            “Oh, well he used to fancy Katniss. But she accused him of being spineless.”

            “Prim-” I plead.

            “Our father was fond of him though. Always talked about him in the highest regard.”

            “Prim, please.”

            “Oh, Katniss. It is water under the bridge. It’s been years now.”

            Mr. Mellark is thoroughly interested, leaning in to hear what Prim will spew from her mouth next.

            “He asked for Katniss’ hand but she refused…”

            “Prim!” I shout loudly.

            We stand in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Mr. Mellark clears his throat. “I was wondering if perhaps my aunt and I could come for tea tomorrow afternoon?”

            I attempt to hide my smile. “We would be delighted to welcome you.”

            Prim continues, “Do you know when you will be returning to London?” Hearing those words makes my stomach clench.          

            “Oh, well, I expect to be here in Seam for quite some time. I shall only visit my family in London from time to time.”

            Prim can’t help herself, “Oh?”

            “Ah, yes, Miss Primrose. You see, um, my mother and I do not see eye to eye on, well…anything really. So I think it is in the best interest of family peace that I stay here.”

            “Then you shall be able to visit often.” The words flow out of Prim’s mouth with intention and it makes me a little hopeful.

            He looks over to me, “Yes. I shall.”

            “Until tomorrow, then, Mr. Mellark.” I curtsey to him as I turn to leave before he can see the color rise in my cheeks at the prospect of frequent visits from the fair-haired man.

 

* * *

 

Every other day for the next two weeks, without fail, Sae and Mr. Mellark come for tea. Mr. Mellark regales us with stories from his travels and childhood. He reads to us from his favorite books, which coincidentally are mine as well. I find I appreciate Bronte, Austen, Dickens and Tennyson even better in his captivating tones. He does amusing voices for different characters and moves his hands when he talks.

I begin to make note of the silliest things: He takes no sugar in his tea. He scratches the back of his injured leg with the tip of his shoe. The humidity curls his hair in a lovely way. He carries a white handkerchief with yellow embroidery. He seems to clear his throat when he is nervous. And, most importantly, he seems to desire the seat next to me.

Prim teases me relentlessly.

 

* * *

 

            Over biscuits and mint tea one day, while my mother and Prim and Sae are making a fuss over flowers, Mr. Mellark and I begin to talk quietly to one another, just us two. I am able to glean even more tidbits of his personality.

            His favorite color is orange but not just any orange, he explains. He goes into detail about the orange of a sunset, which leads to his paintings-- he favors landscapes over portraits. He writes, mostly articles for the local newspaper. He tells me about his brothers and father.  We make our way to the veranda where Haymitch is sleeping on the padded bench along the wall. He continues on about his stay here in the Seam.

            “I am very glad I am able to stay here. I haven’t been to visit in years and it is high time I learn how to run the house.”

            I make a face. “What do you mean run the house? Are you to inherit?”

            “Um, well, in practicality, I suppose it is already mine.”

            “What?”

            “Oh, I thought you knew. The Wheat House belongs to my father. Sae has said it was the talk of the town not two seasons ago, with her living on her own since my uncle’s passing.”

            “Mr. Mellark, I tend to ignore gossip as best I can. Gossip has caused a great deal of hurt to my family and…” I clamp my hands over my mouth. It seems he is not the only one free with words during our exchanges. “Forgive me. I have said too much.”

            He gently tugs my wrist away from my face. My cheeks warm at the touch. “No need to be shy, Miss Everdeen. You will find I am not like the hens in town.” He drops his hand away from me and averts his eyes. “My father intended me to come live at Wheat House with a wife, but I fear I do not abide by his timing. It does not matter really, as I have always thought of it as Sae’s home, and it shall continue to be so until her dying breath. My mother, of course, feels differently.”

            “Your mother is indifferent to Mrs. Sherbourne?”

            “Only because she is on our property. Otherwise, I believe my mother to enjoy my aunt’s company.”

            We stand in a comfortable silence, our hands clasped in front of us. I feel...content. I feel as though I could just stand here, so long as it is beside him, and be perfectly fine.

            “I’m sorry to bombard you with stories. I just…I find it exceptionally easy to talk to you. However, I should like to know more about you.”

            “Oh, well, I…”

            “All in good time of course.”

            I can’t help the step I take towards him, our shoulders barely grazing one another. “The pleasure would be mine, Mr. Mellark.”    

            The smile he gives makes me feel as though I may burst.


	4. As I Desire to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dining with Mr. Mellark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter all prettied up by my beta, katnissinme. She wrangles in my thoughts when they get a little weird.

            It is not a very odd thing to receive an invitation to dinner from Sae Sherbourne. It usually arrives on thick parchment, neatly folded by her butler, Beetee. But this time when it arrives, I am a bit out of sorts.

            Prim reads the invite aloud, “Oh, we are all to attend. That means you too, uncle,” she calls out to the veranda loudly. We get a “yes, yes, I hear you” in return. She reads on, “The Hawthornes will be attending and it looks as though the Odairs will be there as well.”

* * *

 

            When the time comes for me to dress, I fuss over which dress to wear and then scold myself for being foolish. I’m standing in my shift, my hair scattered down my back, running my hands over my face when the creak of the floorboards startles me.

            “What is the matter with you child?” There is Effie in the doorway, hair pinned up a mile high with an apron on.

            “I’m unsure of what to wear to the dinner tonight is all. I’m fine.”

            “I never thought I’d see the day…” But she doesn’t finish. Instead she sashays to my wardrobe and thumbs through my clothing. “Perhaps I could pull out one of your mother’s formal dresses from seasons passed?”

            I just stare at her wringing my hands.

            “Just give me a moment, my dear.”

            She returns with an armful of jewel-toned dresses, “Now, he saw you in that lovely green dress at the assembly, so…” She shuffles to an eggplant colored gown.

            It’s futile to feign ignorance and ask about whom she is talking. Effie will just scold me for being nonsensical, and I rather hate when her voice gets that shrill.

            She laces my corset quickly, and a tad too tightly, then buttons up the back of the gown. She curls and pins my hair up and steps back to assess her work. She leans in again, pinching my cheeks. “You look lovely, dear.”

 

* * *

 

            I feel exceptionally shy when I am announced by Beetee once we arrive. Perhaps it is because I spend my days in cotton dresses and not boned corsets that thrust my small breasts up and curve my waist. Or perhaps I am afraid my countenance will betray my eagerness to be here. I greet everyone, saving Mr. Mellark for last. His jaw seems to be slack when I finally curtsey before him.

            Gale, Rory and Hazelle Hawthorne arrive shortly after, followed by the Odairs. We are served wine before moving into the dining hall that has been filled with candles instead of gaslight to create a warm, flickering glow. Mr. Mellark bids me to sit next to him. The candlelight bounces off his golden lashes and my fingers twitch, aching to see if they feel as soft as they look. The first course is served.

            “That color is quite becoming on you, Miss Everdeen.”

            “Thank you Mr. Mellark.”

            Sae’s voice bellows in the hall. “Miss Everdeen, perhaps you would read a sonnet for us this evening?” She leans towards the Odairs, “She has such a commanding voice even though she is quite shy. She is by far my favorite reader, aside from my nephew of course.”

            “I’d be delighted, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Peeta smiles at me.

            “And perhaps Miss Primrose could entertain us with her piano forte?”

            Primrose beams. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

            The conversations begin to flow around us.

            Haymitch sits across from Peeta and I. “So, Mr. Mellark, tell me what it is that you do exactly.”

            “Well, Mr. Abernathy, I paint and write. I sculpt on occasion. A bit of everything I suppose.”

            Haymitch looks unimpressed, as he does with most. I speak up to save Mr. Mellark, “What is your most recent project?”

            “I completed a portrait for Lady Johanna Mason.”

            “I can’t imagine sitting still for that long,” I judge.

“It is challenging. When you are painting a person, you must pay attention to the little things: the creases at the corners of eyes, the turn of feet or the curve of a hip.” His eyes rake quickly down my bodice and back up again. Had I blinked, I would have missed it. I clumsily reach for my glass to quench my suddenly dry mouth.

            “How poetic.” Prim calls across from us, smiling like a Cheshire cat. Madge and Gale have eyebrows raised in my direction. Haymitch continues to look impassive and Mr. Mellark averts his gaze from me.

            Over the main course, Mrs. Odair talks of her husband and how suavely he acted to win her heart. She shares funny stories from their courting, including shouting at the top of his lungs in the busiest square in London that they were to be married. Primrose, naturally, wants to know everything about their wedding.

            By dessert, I had learned that Mr. Odair owned a respected company in London where he constructed fine carriages. He had started it from scratch and had almost completely thrived on word of mouth praise.

            “I’ve just hired a man from this area a few months back. A very hard worker by the name of Matthew Brutus. Perhaps you know him?”

            My family sucks in a breath. Hazelle drops her fork. And then Haymitch starts to laugh.

            Matthew Brutus is a burly sort of man with more muscle than mind. Something I might have told him the last time I saw him.

            “Sure we know Mr. Brutus. Asked for Katniss’ hand about a year ago. Thrilled Marianne to death” Haymitch sputters out between chuckles.

            “I did like him” my mother says wistfully.

            “But our little spit-fire here wouldn’t have him.”

            I cannot meet anyone’s eyes. The silence is deafening. I turn my head in the general direction of Sae, “If you’ll excuse me, I am in need of some fresh air, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

            “Of course dear.”

            And then I flee. I climb the stairs and through the corridor to the balcony overlooking the fountain. The mugginess hits me, leaving me breathless. I want nothing more than to tear off my bindings and crawl into bed.

            “Miss Everdeen?”

            I spin to find Mr. Mellark standing at the doorway, hesitant.

            “May I join you?”

            I smile, “Of course.”

            He takes his place beside me, resting his elbows on the railings. And we sit like that for some time. Primrose starts to play on the piano below us but no one comes to gather us.

            I break the quiet, “I do not want you to think me thoughtless about Mr. Brutus and Mr. Gloss. I just did not…I wasn’t...um…I did not intend for them to propose. I-I-”

            “I do not think that of you, Miss Everdeen. In fact, I quite admire that about you. Furthermore, I am grateful for it. I would not have the good fortune to be standing here on a balcony with you alone if you had accepted those proposals.”

            I chuckle. “My mother may faint when yet another birthday passes without an engagement.”

            “And when will that be?”

            “Oh, a few weeks after my sister will be married. The eighth of May.”

            He looks delighted at the information, smiling out into the darkness. “Perhaps your sister’s wedding can keep her occupied enough not to notice.”

            I laugh lightly, “Perhaps we should go back before we are missed.”

            He offers his arm and I wind mine through his, bringing my hand up to curl around his upper arm. A grin spreads across my face at this simple touch. He is grinning too. We descend the stairs towards the sound of my sister’s melody.

            “You do look lovely this evening, Miss Everdeen. But then again, I think you always look lovely.”

            And then we enter the parlour, my face burning from his compliments. He waits for me to be seated and then takes a spot across the room from me. I feel his eyes on me while I speak with Annie and Sae. And when I stroll to the books to find a few passages I may read, I feel his gaze follow me. I do not dare look up for fear the heat may overtake my body. I hear everyone clap when Primrose has ended her song. Sae calls on me and I go to stand in front of her company. My voice feels a bit unsteady tonight, despite having read aloud dozens of times.

 _“If I_ _were loved, as I desire to be,_ __  
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,  
And range of evil between death and birth,  
That I should fear,—if I were loved by thee?  
All the inner, all the outer world of pain  
Clear Love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine,  
As I have heard that, somewhere in the main,  
Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.  
’Twere joy, not fear, claspt hand-in-hand with thee,  
To wait for death—mute—careless of all ills,  
Apart upon a mountain, tho’ the surge  
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills  
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge  
Below us, as far on as eye could see.”

            I sneak a glance up and over to Mr. Mellark. He has his elbow propped up on the arm of the channel back chair he occupies, his chin resting within his hand. The candlelight creates shadows on the hollows of his cheeks and the expanse of his neck that make him look more masculine, more rugged. I let out a breath and must look away. I cannot bring myself to look his way again until I have read through my selections and taken my seat back across from him. I will myself to stare at him with the same intensity, quirking my lips into a small smile. A grin overcomes his face.

* * *

 

            As we leave that evening, Primrose and Rory insist that Finnick and Annie come to her wedding, to which they happily oblige. With a smug smile on her face, she turns to Mr. Mellark.

            “Of course, I would be most happy if you attended as well, Mr. Mellark if only to keep my dear sister company.”

            I let out a sigh.

            “It would be an honor, Miss Primrose. And I shall take my  appointed task very seriously.”

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sonnet featured is written by Alfred Lord Tennyson


	5. Quite Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta shares something important with Katniss. Someone comes along and makes Katniss a bit jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story starts out as a plain ol' plastic Christmas tree when I send it to my beta. katnissinme adds the lights and garland and ornaments so you guys can enjoy!

            Rory and Prim sit by the fireplace in our sitting room, gazing at one another, oblivious to everything and everyone around them. In between pressing my flowers, I sneak a glance at them. They have not said much aside from the occasional murmur. Rory holds Prim’s hand. My mother is embroidering near the window.

            We are expecting Mr. Mellark and Sae at any moment. I excuse myself to gather the tray from Effie.

            I am quite surprised when I answer the door to find only Mr. Mellark standing in front of me, top hat clutched under his arm, his cane in one hand and a silver tin in the other.

            He bows his head, “Miss Everdeen.”

            “Come in Mr. Mellark. Can we expect your aunt shortly?”

            “Ah, no. She had unexpected company this morning and sent me on my way. I hope you don’t mind.”

            “No, not at all. Please, come join us.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as he follows me into the sitting room. He greets my sister, Rory and my mother with an apology from Sae and we sit for tea. He offers us the tin in his hands, which is filled with cookies and Prim accepts it gleefully.

            We sip from our cups in amid casual conversation. My eyes roam over to Mr. Mellark as he sips from the delicate cup. “Mmm. What flavor of tea is this?” he asks.

            “Oh, it’s vanilla and mint. Katniss’ concoction and her very favorite.” Prim answers.

            “Vanilla and mint is your favorite flavor?”

            I smile shyly, “In tea, yes.”

            “Noted.” he says.

            I spend the rest of our discussion calming the butterflies in my stomach, while Prim goes on and on about how delicious the cookies are. Mr. Mellark eludes answering where they came from, claiming it to be a well-kept secret per the baker’s request.

            My mother makes a suggestion. “Perhaps you four could take advantage of the lovely weather we are having and go for a walk around the village? Unless you have somewhere to be, Mr. Mellark?”

            “Not at all. I’d be delighted.”

            After Prim and I tie on our bonnets, we set off down the dusky road that winds through the houses in the Seam. When I chaperone Rory and Primrose, I tend to fall back so that they may have some more private time to themselves. Today I let Mr. Mellark set the pace, his cane crunching the dirt beneath us, and we find ourselves quite alone with the lovebirds far ahead of us.

            “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

            A small panic tremors through me as I think of all the things he could have heard. “Umm…”

            “Completely innocent questions, Miss Everdeen, I assure you.”

            I nod, “Alright.”

            I let out a laugh as he asks me the simplest of questions: my favorite color and flower and food. He asks about my childhood and things I like to do. He asks about Rory and Primrose and how they fell in love. As our walk continues, I find myself laughing at his giddiness. But he avoids talking about my mother and father. I’m sure Sae has told him what she knows of our woes but he does not press for specifics about it, for which I am quite thankful. “Mr. Mellark, you seem positively drunk with information!”

            “Ah, Miss Everdeen! My aunt has spoken of your shyness. I am merely feeling privileged that you have shared these things with me.”  

            We walk in silence then, occasionally peeking at one another with shy smiles. I feel so strange in my own skin around this man, I realize. An overwhelming desire to touch him comes over me and as we walk the turnabout to head back home, I act on it. I slip my arm through his, resting my hand on his wrist. I am acutely aware of every nerve in that arm.

            As we walk up to the front door, I turn to him, “Mr. Mellark, perhaps you would care to stay for dinner? I could ask Miss Trinket to set another place for you.”

            “Beside you?”

            “Yes. Beside me if you desire.” I place a hand on my cheek, as if to hide the blush his boldness has caused.

            “I would like that very much.” He is blushing too.

 

* * *

 

One week prior to the wedding, I find myself alone on the veranda repairing the hem on a few of Primrose’s dresses before she is to leave. Rory recieved a letter from his uncle, the butcher, in London early this morning. It seems Rory will be taking over the family business, with his brother Vick, from his uncle. He sent word right away that he and Prim would travel to London after their wedding. His uncle has offered a cottage and comfortable living on his land. It is bittersweet to a sister.

 I sigh into the quiet. This is the first moment I have had to myself for quite some time. Mr. Mellark visits often and I find the hours go by quickly as we converse, sometimes oblivious to the company surrounding us. I smile at the fact. I think about things I would like to tell him in between stitching. Perhaps I could show him my flowers and my father’s plant book. It’s an odd thing to think, as I have never desired to share it with anyone. I take another bite from the nutty bread that Mr. Mellark gave us yesterday. He hardly ever comes to visit without some sort of sweet or pastry lately.

Of course, when Mr. Mellark is not present, my mother and Primrose mention him relentlessly.

            The door swinging open startles me. My uncle takes his usual spot on a well-worn chair and props his feet up on the railing. I resume my task. We sit in silence for a while.

            “So, Mr. Mellark seems to be pretty taken with you.”

            I drop the fabric into my lap with a huff. “Not you too!”

            “Sweetheart, I had to. I have noticed that _this_ gentleman doesn’t annoy you. It is a strange thing to see indeed: Katniss Everdeen smitten.”

            I just glare at him.

            “And not putting up a fight about it? Oh my.”

            “We are merely close friends. I enjoy my conversations with him.”

            “Uh-huh.”

            I stomp inside leaving a chortling Haymitch behind.

 

* * *

 

            Mr. Mellark comes late the next evening with Rory in tow and asks for a walk around, a daily routine that we all seem to enjoy. I have noticed that Mr. Mellark seems to be picking up more speed the more we walk.

            “Your limp seems to be improving.”

            “The walking is good for it. Warms it up and stretches it out.”

            “Do you think you could ever be without the cane?”

            “I do not think so, no. The nerves in my leg sometimes have a mind of their own and the cane helps to keep me upright. Other times, I just get a bit tired and it helps to lean on it.”

            “Oh.”

            I link my arm through his. A simple touch I ache for.

            We pass a moment in comfortable silence, though I find my curiosity getting the better of me. “Does it bother you, your injury?”

            Mr. Mellark looks at me, the corner of his mouth upturned slightly. “Less and less, I suppose.”

            Again, we continue for several stride without further chatter.

            “Would you like to know about my accident?”

            I feel a bit shocked by the question. “Oh, no. I mean, I don’t want to pry. It’s none of my business really.”

            “I only suggest it, Miss Everdeen, because you are one of the first people not to inquire after it. Oddly enough, you are the first person with whomI have wanted to share the account.”

            I tilt my head down, hoping my bonnet can cover the reddening of my cheeks.

            “It was right before my thirteenth birthday. I was riding my brother’s filly and got a little rambunctious on her. I had jumped fences hundreds of times on my own mare, but that was the difference; it wasn’t my horse. She barely made the fence. My foot got caught in between the top and middle lumber and my leg slipped through. I was still attached to the saddle and the horse kept going. I heard a snap. The next thing I knew, I was hanging by my battered leg upside down and the grounds around me were fading to black.”

            I gasp, “Oh, that’s horrible.”

            “Nearly all the bones in my leg were broken. The physician did his best in setting it but I was left with some nasty scarring and a leg with a sort of twist to it, thus my need for a cane.”

            “You were so young. It must have been difficult for you to keep up with your brothers.” I tighten my arm around his.

            “It was. I would have fits because I was unable to play rounders with my brothers. It had been my favorite game.”

“I played that game a lot as a child. I was quite good, actually,” I say smugly.

“I have no doubt!” He jokes. We walk in more silence.

 He slows his footsteps until he stops. His opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it.

            I give him an encouraging smile.

            He lets out a breath, “May I ask something of you, Miss Everdeen?”

            “Y-yes, of course.”

            “Perhaps, when it is just you and I talking like this, you would feel comfortable enough to call me by my first name?”

            It rolls off my tongue, completely natural, “Of course, Peeta. And I would like if you called me Katniss.”

            Complete adoration washes over his face, smoothing over the worry lines that crinkled there before. It makes my heart flutter in my chest. “Yes. I w-would like that very much…Katniss.”

            We speed our steps to catch up to Rory and Prim. As soon as we are within sight of them, I see Delly coming into view, twirling her frilly umbrella, so obviously waiting for us.

            Or more than likely, for Peeta.

            “Oh! Mr. Mellark. Isn’t it such a lovely day for a walk?”

            “Um…”

            “I just love this kind of weather, don’t you? Oh, hello, Miss Everdeen.”

            I scowl, turning my attention to my feet. She prattles on and on about I don’t even know what. She is boastful of her father and the money he has. She turns towards Peeta at any chance she gets, thrusting the flesh of her chest forward. She asks about Peeta’s father and how she hears wonderful things of his mother, a statement that makes us both grimace. Delly walks the entire way back home with us and at the front door, with great reluctance and her standing there, obviously waiting, I invite her in to sit with us.

            Prim sees Rory off and then comes to sit with us as well. All three of us stare wide-eyed at Delly, waiting for her to take a breath from speaking. It seems we are waiting in vain.

            “So, Mr. Mellark,” she continues, “I simply must ask, were you in an accident?”

            My sister lets out a squeak.

            Peeta looks to me, then to Delly. She looks eager to hear an answer.

            The words fall out of my mouth before I can seem to stop them, “Oh, I love your hairpin, Miss Cartwright. It goes very well with your dress. Oh, and it appears that your brooch matches it. Just stunning, really. Where ever did you get it?”

            She falters for a moment, a complete look of surprise on her face, before launching into how her father bought it for her and all the other things he brought back from Italy for her. I smile politely, nodding my head ever so often.

            When it grows late, Delly excuses herself to go home.

            “Mr. Mellark, would you mind escorting me home? It is getting rather dark out.”

            Prim makes a face, “It’s still sunny out.”

            “Oh, now Miss Primrose. It is simply polite for a gentleman to accompany a lady.”

            Peeta clears his throat, “Ah, I would be delighted, Miss Cartwright.” He turns to Prim, “Good evening, Miss Primrose.” He turns to me next and steps towards me, a smile dancing across his lips, “Thank you for everything, Miss Everdeen. I shall visit again very soon.”

            Before closing the door, I notice Delly linking her arm through Peeta’s. My hand twitches at the thought of pulling her hairpin from her golden curls and throwing it into her rosy face.

 

* * *

 

            When we wake the next morning, a small cake sprinkled with cinnamon awaits us, accompanied by a note:

 

_Miss Primrose & Miss Everdeen,_

_I shall, with regret, be scarce the next two days. My company has been requested for lunch and tea this afternoon with the Cartwrights, by invitation of Mr. Cartwright himself._

_Tomorrow evening I have been asked to dine with Glimmer Godfrey and her family, and have obliged._

_I will hope to be in your company before Friday but alas, I hear someone is to be married that day and may be otherwise occupied._

_Kindest Regards,_

_Peeta Mellark_

            I admire his writing, clutching it in my hands as if it may fly away and touching the script tenderly.

            “We simply must find out who makes these treats!” I turn to see Prim stuffing a piece of cake into her mouth.

            “Prim, it’s not even breakfast yet.”

“I think he would tell you. I believe he would tell you anything if you asked.” She looks smug again.

            I quirk an eyebrow at her, “Perhaps.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeta's favorite childhood game, Rounders is very similar to modern baseball.
> 
> In 19th century England, the oldest unmarried daughter was always addressed in public as Miss followed by her surname. Any younger unwed sisters were addressed as Miss followed by their given Christian name and sometimes including their surname as well. In this case, Katniss is Miss Everdeen and Prim is Miss Primrose.


	6. Handprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss stumbles upon an odd scene.  
> Rory and Primrose get hitched!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A GINORMOUS thank you to my beta, katnissinme. She looked this over not once but twice! Her suggestions made me think a little harder and take the fluff factor up a notch. This will be the last chapter of 2012. The holidays make my house an insane asylum and I cannot give my full attention to making this a great story for you guys to enjoy. Happy Holidays to all of you. You have truly made 2012 a wonderful, creative experience for me.

                With all the preparations for the wedding my attention is almost diverted from Peeta’s absence.

            Almost.

            Effie has a list of chores for the entire household so we can properly prepare our home for our guests after the wedding. With a day still left, I fear we may scrub the paint off the walls. The woman is meticulous to a fault. After scrubbing the windows and right before lunch, I steal away to the Wheat House. I hope to visit, if only for a moment, with Peeta before his dinner at the Godfrey House that evening.

            I walk with hurried steps to the manor and am greeted by Beetee with a smile.

            “I’m afraid the lady of the house was not feeling well and is taking an afternoon nap, Miss Everdeen.”

            “Oh, well, I actually wanted to visit Mr. Mellark, if he is available.”  I look down at my hands, too embarrassed to meet Beetee’s eyes.

            “Ah, I see. Well, yes, of course. Mr. Mellark, I believe was expecting you or rather hoping you would call. I was to send you to him if you did,” he smiles knowingly at me, “I believe he is in the library.”

            “Thank you.”

            I make my way through the quiet hallway and peer into the deserted library. I decide to inquire further to Beetee when I hear humming. It sounds like Peeta. I quietly wind down the narrow hallway and through the swinging doors that lead into the kitchen. The humming becomes louder as I come around the corner.

            His back is facing me. His linen shirt is half un-tucked from his trousers and flour is dusted up to his elbows. He is kneading dough. I move quietly, entranced by the sight before me.

            As if he feels my presence, he turns to face me. “Katniss?”

            In that moment I am too focused on the man in front of me, and I trip over a stack of baskets with a loud ‘oomph’ and fall forward.

            I do not travel far; Peeta takes a step forward as his hands on my waist tug me back onto my feet.

            My eyes travel slowly up to meet his eyes. His hands remain where they are. His chin moves as if to speak but no sound comes out. All I can see is his cerulean gaze. All I can feel are his curled fingers encompassing the dip in my waist. And all I can hear is the steady thrumming of my pulse.

            His fingers flex, gripping harder. “Oh,” I whisper.

            The sound of a creaking floorboard somewhere in the house prompts him to pull his hands back to his sides.

            “Forgive me,” he croaks. I nod.

            He limps the few steps back to his task. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            “Honestly? I am attempting to evade Effie. She has kept us all quite busy most of the morning.”

            He looks over his shoulder at me and smiles, “I bet.”

            “I was unaware you could bake,” I remark teasingly.

            “Ah, yes, Sae and her household staff and my family are the only ones who know my secret. Well, and now you also.” He smiles again, turning back towards me and leaning against the work surface.

            “However did you learn?”

            He clears his throat, “Uh…”

            “No. I-I’m sorry. That was improper.”

            “Not at all. Forgive me. I do not mind if you ask me questions, Katniss. I am just a little unsure of how to begin the answer to this one.” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, which in turn makes me bite mine.    

            He sighs, “As punishment when I was a child, my mother would have me sit on a stool in a corner of our kitchen. I was only to emerge at her prompting. However, she often forgot. She went into town daily to buy things and would stay gone for hours on end. Our cook, Miss Portia, would always call me over to help her make things. Her sugar cookies were always my favorite. I was ten when she started teaching me to bake. After my accident, I spent a great deal of time with Miss Portia of my own accord. When my mother discovered that was how I occupied my time, I was lectured on how Mellarks do not cook or bake, as we paid staff to do it for us. Thankfully my father disagreed. He encouraged me, in fact. To appease my mother, I simply kept it to myself.” He hangs his head.

            I walk over to him, leaning against the table beside him, not knowing what to say. Instead, I try to comfort him with touch. I mimic the grip he has on the edge of the counter, letting my little finger curl around his. His grip tightens and I let out a sigh. “Wait,” I suddenly become aware of what he’s confessed to me. “You.”

“Me?” he asks coyly, the corner of his mouth turning up delectably.

“You made us the sweets.”

He smiles fully, “I did.”

“Well, you should be aware that my sister demands that this mysterious baker make her wedding cake, Mr. Mellark. Although your invitation to the Godfreys, which I know you are so much looking forward to,” he makes a face at me, “may prevent you from granting the wish.”

“I shall be pleased to make your dear sister and her groom a cake even after you have called me Mr. Mellark _and_ implied I am excited to be in the company of someone that isn’t you. I won’t have to lie to leave early now.”

“I do not wish to keep you up all hours of the night.”

“You wound me. I can do this in my sleep!”

I grin, “Very well then…Peeta.” I push myself from the table, saddened by the loss of contact. “I shall see you tomorrow, then.”

“Could this be our little secret?” he implores.

“Under lock and key. Oh, and Peeta?”

“Hmm?”

“This means a great deal to me as well.” We stare too long at one another before the blush makes it all the way to my ears and I must leave.

When I return home and pull my apron on to assist Effie further, Prim looks strangely at my dress. And then she starts laughing.

“What has gotten into you?”

“Katniss, are those handprints on your waist?” her voice fades into a blubbering laugh.

A flush from my chest up to my hairline flares. I look down. There are the imprints of Peeta’s large hands captured in flour splayed across my sides. I quickly brush the powder, smudging it. I glare at Prim.

She attempts to hold in her laughter now, seeing how embarrassed I am. She fails miserably. I hear my mother coming down the hall. “What’s so funny in here, Primrose?”

I dash up the stairs before she enters the room.

Even after I’ve taken a wet cloth and wiped away the remnants of the handprints, I can still feel the heat of his grip. I close my eyes and bite my lip. I want to feel that heat in places I’ve never given that much thought to.

 

* * *

 

Prim and Rory marry mid-afternoon on Friday in our town’s quaint church. I stand alongside her, watching as they are united as husband and wife. I am sure Prim has never smiled this much. She looks positively radiant in her lace gown, her hair curled and her hands clutching a bouquet of English bluebells and tulips. Rory’s cheeks remain a ruddy pink and he is grinning like a court jester. Gale stands next to his brother but his eyes are cast out towards the pews. I follow his sight to Madge, whose head is bowed, no doubt attempting to hide the blush on her cheeks. Like a magnet, my eyes drift over to Peeta. He is seated near his aunt but in between Delly and Glimmer. The two women seem to be quarreling with one another. Peeta gives me a lopsided grin and a wink.

 

 

My family and our guests are escorted back to our home. The family of the bride and groom ride in style in a pair of brougham carriages, lent by Mr. Odair for transportation of the newlyweds to their party and then to carry them and their belongings to London. The weather is warm and sunny with a slight breeze; the perfect day for my beloved sister.

Our families form a receiving line, and one by one we greet our twenty or so guests. Peeta is at the end of the line, affording him the time to kiss my gloved knuckles and admire the blush that blooms across my face before moving on to congratulate the bride and groom.

The veranda has been decorated with any sort of white flower that Effie could find. The table in our dining room is covered in finger sandwiches, fruits and sweets with more flowers scattered about. Haymitch did not lie when he promised an affair worthy of a queen.

            Prim’s loud gasp draws my eyes to the end of the table. A tiered cake with fluffy cream-colored icing sits upon a bed of spun sugar. It looks like something from a fairy tale. So beautiful, in fact, that I am hesitant for anyone to eat it. Her eyes search me out, mouthing ‘thank you’ to me before pulling Rory over to admire the confection.

            I can hear the click of his cane against the wood of the floor before he speaks. “Your sister seems to approve.” I turn slightly and startle at the closeness of his face. His breath on my cheek makes my heart skip a beat.

            “I believe she does, Mr. Mellark. Your secret baker has outdone himself.”

            “Shall we have some treats?”

            We help ourselves to the fare. After protests from Peeta, he allows me to carry his plate to a seat in the corner of our porch so we may watch the crowd and have a laugh as Effie darts from one guest to the next. An improvised band consisting of neighbors has begun to play and a small crowd has gathered to dance in the garden. Effie begins to scowl, no doubt over the ineloquence an unplanned band can bring to an upscale party. Haymitch grabs her by the waist, twirling her round until finally, she grins. Our more stuffy guests can hardly contain the disgust that shows on their faces. Not that my uncle gives a damn but Effie does. After just a few moments, she pulls away, righting herself and going back to her proper role.

            Peeta tells me of his lunch with the Cartwrights and dinner with the Godfreys. Delly had told him, in great detail he assures me, of the dresses she had just gotten from France. Glimmer was the opposite; she spoke very little, stared at him relentlessly and picked at her food while her mother had gotten a little tipsy and giggled almost non-stop.

            “It was not nearly as entertaining as visiting with your family,” he nudges my elbow with his.

            “Perhaps next time you could take them for a walk. Maybe Delly will allow you to hold her frilly umbrella,” I laugh.

            He glowers. “I believe I will be conveniently ill should I receive any more invitations from the Cartwrights or the Godfreys. Furthermore, I only like to walk with you now. You’ve ruined it for everyone else.”

            The color barely has time to rise to my cheeks when I hear Glimmer and Delly’s voices on opposite sides of us and almost at the same time, “Mr. Mellark!”

            Both girls approach us. Delly quickly takes charge of the conversation as Glimmer pouts. She is only able to sputter out a few sentences when Peeta holds up a hand.

            “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Everdeen has agreed to have a dance with me.” My jaw drops. He uses his cane to pull himself up and offers his hand to me.

            Delly stammers, “B-but Miss Everdeen _never_ dances.”

            “Well then you can understand my haste to take advantage before she changes her mind.” He pulls me up beside him.

            “I’ll have to get rid of my cane. Do you mind if I lean on you a bit?”

            I shake my head, my mouth still agape as we join the others on the bricked courtyard.

            Our dance is graceless but it is without a doubt the best time I have ever had. Our laughter is jubilant. Peeta does lean against me a great deal, but my arms are strong from climbing trees my whole life. I take his weight with ease. He twirls me as the quartet finishes.

            I help him back to the veranda, both our chests heaving. I fetch him a cup of tea so he can rest. Mr. Odair comes to chat with us. He badgers Peeta on what he labels ‘expressive twirling’ and shares stories of the other handful of times he has danced. Annie comes to drag him away whispering, “Leave Mr. Mellark and Miss Everdeen to one another’s company, Finn.”

            Peeta clears his throat several times, “My aunt told me Prim and Rory are to live in London?”

            “Yes. He will be working in his uncle’s butcher shop.” I frown, “My baby sister will be living apart from us, running her own household. It is quite overwhelming.”

            “She is still somewhat close. Just a few hours and you would get to see her. I shall escort you there any time you’d like, day or night. You need only ask.”

            I close my hand over his, in a crowd of people, no matter how inappropriate it may be.

 

* * *

 

            My mother comes to fetch me so that I may say my farewell to my sister in private. Very few guests remain, only those closest to us. She is gazing out the window in our room. She turns to me, tears on the verge of spilling. I go to her, wrapping my arms around her.

            “Penny for your thoughts, little duck.”

            “It’s only nerves. I am leaving my family, moving to a large city. It’s quite the upheaval.”

            “But you’ll be with Rory.” She gives me a small smile as a response so I continue, “He will take care of you, my beloved sister. He loves you so purely and would soon die as to have you unhappy.”

            “Will you be alright? All I can imagine is cold conversations with mama and snippy remarks from Haymitch. What if Effie drives you crazy?”

            “I think I can manage. Madge is still here. And...Mr. Mellark, of course.”

            Her smile grows at the mention of Peeta’s name.

            “He adores you, Katniss. You must know that.”

            I take a deep breath but do not answer.

            “Has he not yet asked uncle to court you?”

            “He has not, no.”

            “He will soon. I know he will.” We step away from one another, clasping our hands together.

            She continues, “He’s different. _You’re_ different. I thought you liked Mr. Gloss and Mr. Brutus but I was mistaken. You tolerated them. The way I see you with Mr. Mellark…you practically glow. You are enamored with him…”

            “Prim, I-I…”

            “You are. Even if you do not want to admit it yet. And he is quite taken with you.” She drops my hands to gather her shawl and put on her gloves and bonnet. I help her tie the blue ribbon securely under her chin. We walk together to the top of the stairs where she turns to me, “Promise me something, sister?”

            “Anything.”

            “Do not let any doubt overtake your mind about Mr. Mellark. Just because father deceived us does not mean every man will do the same.”

            I sigh, “I shall miss you, Primrose.”

 

            The tears that fall as Prim waves goodbye to us are happy ones even if my heart feels tortured. I join Peeta on the front steps. The sun has just begun to droop in the sky. He retrieves a handkerchief from his waistcoat and places it into my hand. I brush the distress away from my cheeks. He tells me to keep it when I try to return it.

            He speaks barely above a whisper, “Do not worry, Katniss. Rory will take very good care of her.” The tips of his fingers ease under my chin, and with a little pressure he brings my gaze to his. “And I will take very good care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the research I've done, most Victorian weddings did not have entertainment. The bride and groom were supposed to be entertainment enough. No pressure on the newlyweds, right?


	7. Up the Mountain, Down in the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited question.  
> An unexpected loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a huge, huge thank you to my wonderful beta, katnissinme. She never shied away when I told her I don't write conflicts too well. She busted my balls to get a little bit more out of this chapter and I am so glad she did. I think you'll be glad too!

            I am perched in my favorite tree. The mature London Plane hangs over the walkway and has an ideal fork in a stronger branch upon which I rest. I’ve brought my father’s book with me today in an old leather satchel that used to belong to Haymitch. He gave it to me after he discovered I was still climbing trees and attempting to do so with things in my hands. I’m waiting for Peeta to come back from fishing with Mr. Odair, which should be in an hour or so.

            True to his word, Peeta has kept me occupied after my sister’s departure nearly three weeks ago. He had attempted to teach me to paint, my attempts at which even he had to admit were dreadful. I was successful at drawing his silhouette and he praised me for it, even though his nose turned out a little up-turned. I taught him a few card games I once played with Prim, and Haymitch taught us how to play croquet. Lastly, I shared the location of my favorite climbing tree with him. He wanted to see me climb it. He had such a strange look on his face when I obliged.

            He has still not asked to court me properly. Surely, he cannot think me indifferent! Then I would let my mind wonder. I thought perhaps if I were more like Delly, blatantly parading my infatuation with him around the village like a prized pony, there would be no mistake of how I feel.

            I let out a puff of air at the thought. How ridiculous I even considered it.

There have been quite a few times I was sure he was going to make his intentions known as both my mother and my uncle had been in our company.

The first time, Madge had burst through the door to announce that Gale had asked for her hand and they were to be married immediately as he was to travel to East Hampshire within days.  

The second time, Effie had squealed when a carrier had brought a letter from Prim. We had not heard from her except for one short letter just a few days after she was married.

The third time, Sae had been having tea with us, and had fainted from the heat and had to be taken home.

Of course, I could just be getting my hopes up. A woman past her prime with two declined marriage proposals could not be desirable to an eligible bachelor. Perhaps I was fooling myself and had simply read too many love stories.

But then I had shown him my father’s plant book. Peeta had listened intently, caressing the photos and handwriting, brushing his fingertips along the pressed flowers in the spine. He had seemed so overcome with emotion, he appeared almost frustrated. His focus landed on my lips. I was so sure he was going to kiss me.

Oh, how I had wanted him to kiss me. We had been dancing upon the edge of what was acceptable, and I very much desired to cross over that line.

But then he had turned away from me.

 

I hear a familiar, tell-tale crunching. I train my eyes on my book but cannot suppress my smile. “You would be a horrible hunter, Mr. Mellark.”

            “I have been told that more than once, Miss Everdeen. It is hardly news.”

            I look down at him, looking up and squinting into the sun at me. “You’re back early.”

            “Alas, I am also a poor fisherman,” he laughs. “Climb down. It’s almost time for tea. I’m certain a mysterious baker has also made a cake for someone’s birthday.”

            I clap my hands together like a child.

            I place my book in my satchel and begin my trek to solid ground. When I am within arm’s reach, Peeta places his free hand on my waist to help me the rest of the way. I turn to face him.

            “Hello,” he says. He twirls the bonnet ribbon that has come undone in between his fingers.

            “Hello,” I reply. We grin like idiots at each other for a moment and then start our walk back.

            “I received a letter from my mother this morning before I left.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yes. She wishes to have me accompany her to Devonshire to visit my uncle, her brother. It seems his health has taken a turn for the worst.”

            “I am very sorry to hear that.”

            “Forgive me for saying this, but he is quite a wretched man. It is a visit borne out of duty not pleasure.”

            “Why is he so wretched?”

            “He likes the taverns and brothels far more than anything else in his life. It has even been rumored that when he was my age he ruined more than one young woman’s reputation. When I pressed my mother for more information, she seemed offended I had even suggested it.”

            “Oh.”

            “But it should not be more than two weeks. Hopefully less.”

            “Don’t be silly. Stay as long as you are needed. I shall still be here upon your return.”

* * *

 

             My birthday celebration is a quiet affair. Hazelle, Posy and Sae have all joined Peeta, my mother and Haymitch and we have an uneventful tea. I open the package that Prim has sent me, a lovely hair comb adorned with silver filigree. I then gush over my mother’s gift- a new inkwell adorned with a brass plate and stamped with my initials.

            It is only after everyone has left and my mother excuses herself for feeling a bit faint, that Peeta presents me with a large, square box.

            “But you did not have to do this.”

            “I will not hear any protest. You deserve it.”

            I pull the knot from the fabric strip wrapped around it. The lid lifts to reveal thin paper covering something heavy and solid. I pull it back to find a large, leather-bound journal. I smile.

            “It’s for your flowers. I noticed you were running out of room in your father’s book.”

            I nod, flipping through the blank pages made of fine parchment.

            He continues, “There should be enough room to write or label your finds.” He bends to the table the package is lying on, leaning against his cane, and picks up leather straps hanging from the spine of the book, “These you can tie quite tight if you’d like. They should help keep everything flat.”

            I run my fingers along the straps and flip through the pages once again. I sigh.

            He stands again, shifting his feet beside me. “I hope you will enjoy it.” His voice is soft, unsure.

            I rise to my feet, at a loss of what to say. ‘Thank you’ does not seem to do justice to the thoughtful and generous gift he has given. I fling my arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. And he holds me back, his cane clamoring to the floor.

            “It’s perfect,” I whisper into his neck.

            His fingertips brush along the fine hairs at the nape of my neck, his other hand winds along my waist.  I breathe him in as though he is my dying breath.

            He pulls my head away, just enough to look at my face. He looks conflicted again. He looks like he wants to kiss me again.

            Effie’s clicking footsteps have us pull back from one another quickly; bursting the bubble we enjoy when alone.

            “One more thing,” he says, taking my hand and all but dragging me to my uncle in the library. Without much warning, Peeta speaks, “Mr. Abernathy, I wanted to ask a question. Well, really I wanted to ask Mrs. Everdeen, too, but…,” he trails off before clearing his throat. “I wanted to formally ask your permission to court Miss Everdeen.”

            My mouth hangs open.

            Haymitch looks over his reading glasses at us. “As if I have any control over her. But I wager she genuinely likes you.” He scrutinizes Peeta for a moment. “Fine by me,” and he waves his hand for us to be dismissed.

            I toss myself at Peeta right in front of my uncle; a chuckle vibrates through his chest and I can feel it on mine.

            A not so subtle and quite cheeky ‘ahem’ from Haymitch interrupts us.

 

* * *

 

            Peeta leaves late the next afternoon to travel to London so he may escort his mother to Devonshire. He bids me farewell with a tin of cookies and a promise to write upon his arrival. His lips linger on my hand and I brush his curls out of his eyes when he rises.

            I watch his carriage until it disappears into the trees.

            I walk into the house, taking the cookies into the kitchen first and then wandering into the sitting room where my mother  has her hands clutched on the mantle.

            “Mama, are you alright?”

            And then she collapses.

 

* * *

 

            Effie helps me tend to my mother, suggesting that the heat has gotten to her. We place her in her night clothes and for hours we fan her and apply cold cloths to her body and sit her up to drink water. I contemplate writing to Prim but Effie assures me it will pass in a day or two. I fall asleep on the small couch in her room.

            I wake far into the night to my mother’s teeth chattering. Her skin however is scorching. I quickly fetch Haymitch.

            He observes her quietly for a moment. “She seems to have the chills.” He sighs and looks towards me, “It seems to be a fever.”

            “Oh God,” I breathe.

            “I must fetch Dr. Aurelius.” He leaves on horseback almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

            Dr. Aurelius diagnosis is vague. He insists upon a fever. I do not leave her side. The day passes.

* * *

 

            Another day goes by and her fever does not let up. He thinks it has become infectious. I write Prim immediately of our mother’s condition. I receive a letter from Peeta telling me of his arrival. The small flutter in my heart is extinguished by my mother’s moans of pain.

 

* * *

 

            A violent storm threatens a quick expedition for my sister. My mother starts to vomit. Effie is too faint to help any longer. Dr. Aurelius attempts to drain the infection from her blood stream with a small incision in the bend of her arm. Haymitch stands vigil in the corner of the room. He, too never leaves.

 

            Another day passes.

            Prim arrives on the verge of hysterics but still manages to utter soothing words to my mother. Dr. Aurelius fears it may be yellow fever.

 

* * *

 

            My mother weakens over the next few days, to the point that she cannot sit up any longer on her own. I cannot hide the fear that is ever-present on my face. My mother has deteriorated almost beyond recognition within a week. I flee the room more than once before the tears catch up to me. Another letter arrives from Peeta. His uncle is doing well for the time being and he will be travelling back sooner than expected. I get dizzy at the prospect of seeing him.

 

* * *

 

            Peeta follows his letter only a day and a half later. I greet him downstairs, the first I’ve seen of it in a week. We stare at one another.

            “Sae told me.”

            I nod

            “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “I-I don’t know…”

            His eyebrows pull to the middle of his forehead, “You don’t know?”

            He is waiting for an answer. I clasp and unclasp my hands in front of me. All in a moment, I become aware of the walls I have built to protect my family. The thought to tell him, that he would come and be a comfort, is quite far-fetched to me. I had never taken help from anyone outside my family. For years I had cringed when people had asked after my family. I had been perpetually certain that they had wanted to know particulars of my family’s misfortune, to spread it about and tarnish the Everdeen name further. To ask for assistance outside of the walls I had created would surely end in more rumors and turmoil. But this man in front of me does not want that. He is genuinely concerned.

            “I didn’t…I never thought to tell you. I just…I’ve repressed so much about my…my…”

            “Your father?”

 I nod. Tears blur my vision again. The roughness of his coat surrounds me before they begin to fall.

 

* * *

 

 

            By the tenth day of my mother’s sickness, Peeta’s pacing has become aggravating. Just outside the door, seemingly all day and night. He has been attentive, fetching anything and everything for myself and my sister. I am unsure what to do with the attention.

I go to him. “Peeta, please. You do not have to stay.”

He looks defeated, “But-”

“Please, go get some rest at home. Eat a nice meal, sleep in _your_ bed, have a proper bath.”

“What if you need me?”

“I shall send for you.”

“Just as you sent for me when she first fell ill?”

I set my jaw.

“Forgive me.” He clutches my hand, “You do not have to go through this alone, Katniss.”

“I-I have Prim and Haymitch.”

He seems exasperated, “Yes. I know that. Please know you have me too. I would like to be more than a forgotten thought…”

This is more than I can handle right now. “Mr. Mellark, please. I have more pressing matters at the moment.”

“I did not mean…I meant that you can find a stronger source of comfort if you let someone in to do so.” He squeezes my hand. “Please, if you need anything at all, please send for me.”

I nod as he kisses my hand. I watch him hesitate at the steps once before heading on.

I sit just outside my mother’s room, not quite ready to go back. The door squeaks open and Prim joins me. She seemingly stares at the same spot across the hallway as I.

“How has it been between you and mama while I was away?”

I smirk, “Quiet.”

“I thought as much.”

“It did improve as time went on. She started to bring my breakfast ray into my room in the morning. Sometimes she would brush and braid my hair like she did when I was young. She began asking me to read excerpts in the evenings.”

“She did always enjoy your reading.”

“But we barely spoke. We are merely acquaintances now.”

The silence stretches out in front of us.

“Katniss…I wish you could forgive her. She just…”

I cut her off, “Why do you do this? Why do you always take her side? She left us with an uncle who was barely sober from drinking away his woes and a debt we could not resolve.”

She looks perplexed. Prim takes my hand in hers, “She is our mother. That is why.”  She lets out a long sigh. “My dear sister, I feel you will find out soon enough but I shall tell you nonetheless. When you are in love, your heart is so…full that the tiniest of pinpricks will rupture it. I was angry with her as well and then I fell in love with Rory and I understood. You must not condemn her for not knowing how to cope. The strongest man in the world would buckle under a broken heart.”

I shake my head. “I am not like you, Prim. I fear that understanding shall forever elude me.”

She puts a hand to my cheek so I will look at her and gently smiles at me. “I find it so much simpler to love and forgive than to hold onto bitterness. It does no good.”

The door squeaks open again. “Everthing okay out here?” Haymitch inquires.

Prim stands, righting her skirts. “Yes, uncle. I’m off for a nap. I’m feeling a bit fatigued.”

            Haymitch stands in front of me as Prim leaves. “Would you like me to bring up something to eat?”

            “No thank you, uncle.”

            He kisses the top of my head before he descends downstairs.

            I walk back into my mother’s room and walk to her bed. I fidget with my hands for a moment before I drop to my knees and clutch her hand. Her breathing is shallow.

            “How can this be?” My question hangs in the air. I stay like that for some time.

When my knees start to ache, I drag a chair by her bed and take her hand again. The overwhelming feeling to say things that linger between us tightens my chest. I take a deep breath.

“Sometimes I think of the past. I dream of when we were close…before your heart was broken. I just…I get so angry at you for abandoning us. As if we did not know the sorrow that you knew. Even when you claimed to be better, you were not the same, we could all see it. How many nights did you take dinner in your room? How many times did you stay back to weep when we were out attempting to continue on, or stare off into some visage only you could see?”

“And then I had to pick up the pieces of Papa’s wrong doings with uncle. You did nothing. I felt so…betrayed by both of you. He deceived me and you had abandoned me. I cling to the memory of the woman you once were. It’s…very difficult to let her go. But I am sorry for not understanding. I am sorry that I did not want to fix what had broken between us. I do…I do love you. Very much.”

I let my tears fall because I do not know what else to do. I kiss her hand before moving to the window to compose myself. The room is growing darker with the sinking sun.

Something shifts; the air is thick.

And the only breathing I hear now is my own.

           

 

 

 

 


	8. Abashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss picks up the pieces. And gossip runs rampant in the Seam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a very special thanks to my beta, katnissinme. I am a comma mess...either too many or not enough. She always cleans it up real nice for you guys!

 

 

To say I do not remember much of my mother's funeral is quite the understatement. I went through the motions as best I could, greeting all the friends and family with their condolences, trying not to notice the way that people would look at Prim and me. They would shake their heads and murmur phrases like, "No parents to speak of. What an atrocity."

Haymitch stood between my sister and me, an arm around each of us. When it got to be too much, he would bat people away. They would call him rude and he would curse them for gawking at us. He would slip me a strong liquid at night that mercifully left me no other choice but to sleep.

We buried my mother beside my father.

The clergyman speaking of the heavens did not help my mind comprehend what I stood in front of: Marianne and Haglund Everdeen together at last; together in the cold, hard ground of the Seam.

Prim and Rory go home a few days after the burial. She tells me I only need to ask her and she will stay, but I reassure her that I will be fine and implore her to go back to her home.

Gale stays a few days as well, but must travel back to East Hampshire. Madge insists on staying despite my protests, but I am inwardly thankful that she is a short distance away at the home of her parents.

For the next few weeks Peeta rarely leaves my side. He buys me books about botany and looks through them enthusiastically in his attempts to engage with me in dialogue. He cooks and bakes for me daily, urging me to eat, but most of his offerings go untouched by me and devoured by Haymitch. He reads to me and sketches me. He fixes me my favorite tea and fetches Madge often to visit. She sits with me, not saying much. It's nice to sit in silence. It is such a rarity of late.

I feel consumed. There are far too many questions about my well-being from people I barely know or well-intentioned visitors telling me how tragic my life has become. As if I am not already abundantly aware.

Effie fusses over me constantly. Haymitch kept himself in a state of drunkenness until a few days ago, something I have not seen since my father's death. Peeta is always trying to distract me. Sae brings me ridiculously expensive chocolates, stating that they help her cope with sadness, therefore surely they will help me as well.

I am suffocating. I am sitting in my room in one solitary moment of silence and I wish the silence would stretch out before me and never stop. I do not want to answer questions. I do not want to smile politely. I do not want to be distracted. And I most certainly do not want to act grateful for hollow words of kindness.

I hear Peeta open the door behind me. He carries a basin in his hands, a cloth draped over his arm.

"It was quite hot today. I thought it would make you feel better to freshen up."

Baring his weight on his cane, he stoops down to his knees and begins wringing out the muslin cloth and blotching at my exposed skin.

I grab his wrist halfway through, "Peeta, you must stop."

"Pardon?"

"I just…I can't do this right now. You are far too overwhelming. It is far too much."

He looks defeated, settling back on his calves.

"Please do not think I have not been grateful for your presence, but I would…I think I would like to be alone for a while."

He lifts his head and I want to take back everything I've said just to make that look go away. He sits for a moment gazing at a point somewhere beyond me. "Fine. If that is what you want. I understand." He rises and I rise with him. He kisses my hand, "I shall do as you wish, my pearl."

And then he is gone.

I am isolated just as I wanted but I find that I feel wretched instead of relieved.

* * *

Peeta keeps his word. For a full three days I do not hear from him at all whilst I am sulking in my room.

On the fourth day, he comes to visit. I offer him a seat in the sitting room but he says he cannot stay.

"I've had a wonderful opportunity. Lord Snow himself has asked for a painted portrait."

My eyes go wide. Even I am aware of Lord Snow and his money and power. "That _is_  a wonderful opportunity."

"I leave for Yorkshire as we speak."

"Oh," I say, slumping my shoulders.

"I wanted to ask if I could write you, as I will be away for some time."

"Yes, of course. I would like that very much."

He nods his head once. "Well then…I shall write you." He pulls a piece of parchment from his coat pocket, "I found these while I was at my uncle's home but there has not been an occasion to give them to you until now. I thought you might like them."

There inside the paper are a few squashed flowers that I do not recognize. "Thank you," I murmur.

"You are very welcome, Miss Everdeen."

My heart sinks at the formality.

He bows, tipping his hat back upon his head. "Good day."

"Good day to you as well, Mr. Mellark."

I stare at the closed door. I am alone again. It is what I wanted but it does not calm the storm churning between my head and my heart.

* * *

I choose to sit mostly in my room. I feel as though I do not move. I stare out the window into the village often. Madge coaxes me into the garden for fresh air but I am unable to walk as far as I did a month ago.

This is how I remain for the next week.

And the next.

The first letter from Peeta arrives and excitement is sparked somewhere deep down. He tells me of Yorkshire: of the crowded streets and the industries that seem to command most of the town. He talks of the railways and the large library just down the road from where he stays and alludes to Lord Snow's preciseness. He writes facts and nothing more. I frown at the "Regards" he scrawls upon the bottom of the parchment.

Madge goes home to Gale but vows to return soon. I suppose she is waiting for me to talk about my mother or Peeta or both. I cannot find the strength for it.

* * *

As the end of June approaches, so does another letter from Peeta. The demeanor has changed but just slightly. It is short, hoping I am well and that I have been enjoying the summer blooms. Included in the folds are two unidentified blossoms to add to my book.

I sit gazing out the window without really seeing what is in front of me. Instead, my sight seems focused on the dust floating in the late morning sun. I turn the letter over and over in my hands.

A jarring bang from behind startles me.

"Get up! Get up! Get moving, young lady! I will not have it! I simply will not tolerate it any longer!" My uncle is shouting as the heavy wooden door he has just flung open bounces off the wall behind it. My eyes are wide and a question forms on my lips.

He stands in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, bellowing before I can even utter my words. "This will not be, Katniss Everdeen. I will not have you sitting in a room, staring into nothingness and becoming your mother."

On instinct, I jump from my seat poised to slap him.

"Yes! Go ahead and give me a slap if you must," he grabs my arms, "just do not do this. You cannot become her. You cannot torment yourself. That is no life! Think of your sister! Think of dear Madge! Think of Mr. Mellark! And for God's sake think of me! I will go mad if you spend another day floating about like a spirit!" He shakes me then, a good firm shake, as if to knock the life back into me.

I continue to stare at him.

"We are going into town. I expect you to be ready by the time I am back with the carriage." He yells for Effie to assist me. He pauses at the door, "I will not hesitate to carry you over my shoulder to the carriage, Katniss." And then he marches out my chamber door just as quickly as he came in.

He does not, however, carry me to the carriage. I do manage it of my own accord. I sit in silence as the buggy bumps along the short distance into town. My uncle has never raised his voice to me. It has no doubt the effect he desires. I mull his words over carefully. Is this what he thinks of me? That I am becoming my mother? I scoff at the idea.

For the remainder of the month, Haymitch and Effie wake me up each morning by thrusting the drapes back and letting in the blinding sun. Effie assists me in dressing before breakfast every day. Afterward, Haymitch and I go on a short walk or some other sort of leisurely activity. I am kept busy once more, but not as lovingly as Peeta once did. Effie takes me to visit dress shops for dresses I do not need and carries on and on about corsets and ribbons and lip rouge. Haymitch tries to teach me difficult card games while telling me strange stories from his younger years. If I dare stray back into my stagnant state, I am pestered and smothered with their ridiculousness.

Because even I tire of my exasperated sighs and fear for my own sanity at the hands of my gruff uncle, I slowly become my old self again.

* * *

Madge returns when July has begun. She seems out of sorts with my change of mood but only briefly. She hugs me dearly as if it is the first time she has seen me in months.

I suppose it is.

Another letter arrives from Peeta. His humor is written in the paragraphs of this one. I find myself smiling as he mocks Lord Snow's faithful servant, Mr. Crane, and his wish to come home for lack of diversion. He ends the letter simply with, "I am a patient man."

* * *

On a particularly muggy morning, Madge and I walk to the shops in town for nothing in particular. Instead, I use it as an opportunity to tell her of Peeta's letters and my lack of response to them.

"He is tentative, indeed. He does not wish to frighten you."

"I believe I have frightened myself."

Madge smiles at me, "How so?"

"I have pushed him away, on my own of course, and I have this overwhelming need to fix the situation."

"So write to him."

"But what do I say? It has been nearly two months since his departure."

"He said he is a patient man. I believe whole-heartedly that he is."

"I feel as though it must be profound though. He has waited all this time."

"My dear, it will come to you. He cannot expect these defenses you have built up to come crashing down overnight."

"I am displeased with myself. For the first time in my life, I feel as though I do not know what to do."

She laughs, "I do not think it will be the last."

The very next day, I begin to scribble complete absurdity on parchment to Peeta. Page after page ends up in a crumple upon the floor. This is how Madge finds me when she fetches me for tea.

Effie seems out of sorts as she sets the tray down in front of us. Haymitch helps himself to a tart and Madge begins to pour our tea. Effie stops at the door and then turns around to face us again, then seems to think better of it and turns back around.

I call to her, "Effie? Is everything alright?"

She fusses with her apron. "Ah…"

We all stare at her.

"Miss Everdeen, there seems to be a rumor going about."

"What is it?"

"Everyone seems to think you have turned away Mr. Mellark. They seem to think this is the reason he has gone to Yorkshire. Even though Mrs. Sherbourne has voiced differently."

I grind my teeth.

Madge sets her teacup down, "But surely, if Mrs. Sherbourne has said it is not true, it would be stamped down?"

"Usually, yes. But I fear Miss Cartwright deems it true and certain. She claims that Mrs. Sherbourne is only stating this because she favors you."

"Miss Cartwright?" I ask.

Effie purses her lips, "She seems to be the root of it, yes."

Madge stands up, "That nit!"

I question Effie further, "But how long has this been going?"

"Almost the moment Mr. Mellark left. I was able to ignore it until _I_  started getting questioned. I know how much you detest the meddlers and their silly conversations. They wanted to know why Miss Everdeen had turned away yet another man. But I said it was preposterous."

We sit in silence. I mull over the information. I imagine a heated discussion with Miss Cartwright in my head but I know very well it would never breach my lips.

The information drives me to finish a letter to Peeta, one of current events of the most boring kind and wishing him well. I am in such a state of anger that I feel inclined to tell him of Miss Cartwright and her inability to keep her nose on her face and out of other people's business. Madge praises it, especially the bit about Delly, and I immediately send it off before I deem it to be inadequate and inappropriate.

"I've never seen you so bold," Madge muses.

* * *

To add to my distress, Mr. Hugh Marvel has been suddenly present. He seeks me out on two of my morning walks, encounters that have me scurrying away, claiming appointments to uphold. He finds me on several trips to town with Madge or my uncle. I am certain I am scowling the entire time he attempts conversation. My uncle acts as if he is watching a comedy; Madge seems to have, what can only be described as a sneer whenever Mr. Marvel approaches.

Then, naturally, he shows up at our home for tea one afternoon of his own accord.

"Um, Mr. Marvel what a surprise," I state rather flatly.

He stands to greet me, "Miss Everdeen, how lovely to see you."

Little is said during this meeting. Haymitch and Effie both sit across from us, observing. Mr. Marvel mentions the weather and about my coping with my mother's death. The way I furrow my brow at him makes him quickly change the topic back to the weather. The tinkering and sipping of our tea cups fill the silence. When Haymitch has gotten bored enough, he places himself at the other end of the room to gaze out the window. It is when Effie excuses herself to refill the teapot that the Mr. Marvel I have come to know, at last speaks.

"The lace along your neckline is exquisite."

All I can manage to do in response to him is blink.

"And the heat has brought such a rosy color to your neck."

"Tell me, Mr. Marvel, do you always say exactly what comes to mind or does a small sense of propriety keep you from telling an acquaintance how you  _really_  feel?"

He smiles at me. I suppose he thinks I am being unabashed, that I am challenging him. "I could most certainly divulge a few more thoughts if you'd like, Miss Everdeen."

My shoulders dip and I let forth a sigh. I make a sound that resembles 'ugh' as I bury my face in my hands before rubbing my palms across my cheeks in an irritated fashion.

"Miss Everdeen?" he questions.

I excuse myself with a complaint of not feeling well.

I want Peeta to come home.

* * *

I come back from an early morning walk around the woods nearly a week after I last saw Mr. Marvel to find Effie and my uncle missing from the breakfast table. As I wipe the dew from my shoes and pat the bottom of my skirts dry, I hear a mumbling coming from the library. I round the stairs to see Effie listening at the door, slightly ajar. She gives me a knowing look and points to the opening. I take her encouragement and lean in.

My uncle faces the door, his arm resting atop a book shelf. There, standing in front of him with his hat clutched behind his back, is Mr. Marvel. He is speaking but I cannot understand what he is saying.

I look at Effie. She shakes her head.

"…and I understand he left not three weeks after her mother's passing. It is an atrocity that she has had to face grieving alone."

Haymitch doesn't reply to Mr. Marvel. Instead he seems bothered.

I look at Effie again, my eyes wide. She nods this time.

"I shall not delay in the true reason I have come this morning, Mr. Abernathy. I wish to ask for Miss Everdeen's hand in marriage."

I do not even think on my action for a second. I swing the door open fully, causing Mr. Marvel to whip around to face me.

My voice is steady and booming, "I shall not say yes, so you needn't ask."

"M-Miss Everdeen! What a pleasant surprise."

I step to him in two strides, my jaw set. "Here me now, Mr. Marvel, I have no intention of marrying you. And Mr. Mellark is of no concern to you. You have no right to make assumptions."

"But I have heard…"

"These are false claims, Mr. Marvel, I assure you."

His lips form a tight line. "You and Mr. Mellark are betrothed."

I huff. I do not owe this man an explanation but the overwhelming need to defend something so dear to my heart makes me think only a moment. "We are not engaged, no. But we do have an understanding. He is away on business and has given me time to grieve with my family  _by my own request._ "

He opens his mouth to declare something I have no intention of hearing. I stalk to the front door, opening it wide for him to leave. He follows after, his head hung low and then stops right in front of me.

"Miss Cartwright told me there was not an understanding twixt Mr. Mellark and you. In fact, she claims he has been writing to her. You must know, Miss Everdeen, my concern was only for your well-being."

I narrow my eyes at him, "I would almost believe you, Mr. Marvel, if I had not been witness to your roaming eyes and a receiver of your lecherous comments."

His face is like stone, nostrils flared. "How dare you insult me."

I ignore his remark. "Good day, Mr. Marvel."

He turns fast, slamming his hat atop his head. I let out a much needed breath, leaning against the door as it closes. When I right myself, I am met by smirks from both Haymitch and Effie.

"And you can stop smirking!" I demand as I retreat upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special shout-out to HGRomance who has given me websites and books to help with my research. I have gotten great information from a book by Daniel Pool called What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew that she recommended to me. A great read, indeed!


	9. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delly collides with Madge and Katniss.  
> A wrong is righted.  
> Katniss pens her feelings on paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gigantic thank you to my wonderful and lovely beta, katnissinme. I'm telling you, she brings it on home.

 

            Practically within hours of turning away Mr. Marvel, a new rumor begins circulating. The authenticity of said murmur is under question. It seems as though Mr. Marvel himself has spoken of an encounter completely out of character: an encounter where a distraught Miss Everdeen throws herself at Mr. Marvel and he turns her away.

            Clove Chetwood seeks me out while I am in the village with Effie to share her impression of his musings.

            “Preposterous! As if _you_ would throw yourself at a man like Hugh Marvel and further, as if he would turn a woman away. His desperation is well known after all.”

            “Indeed!” I agree. Then, possibly for the first time ever, I continue on in the story, divulging more information. “Actually, Miss Chetwood, Mr. Marvel asked for my hand. I declined.”

            A gloved hand comes to cover her mouth as it gapes open, shocked.

            Effie chimes in, “There is no distress over Mr. Mellark. Miss Everdeen does miss him a great deal…,” she trails off, giving me a sly smile.

            Miss Chetwood nods her head. “I always felt the two of you would make a handsome couple. He seemed quite taken with you from the beginning, really.” She gives me a knowing smile.

            It is lovely, really, to find this sort of kindness in Miss Chetwood. In my experience, she loves to talk and likes to know the truth more, even if it requires embarrassing the person in question. I am quite aware of the curt replies I have bestowed upon her over the years in the interest of self-preservation.

* * *

 

            I have spent a handful of afternoons over at Sae’s recently. I thought I would keep her from feeling a bit lonely while Peeta is away. Of course, it turns out just the opposite of my intention, actually, as she is quite the social butterfly.

            “You forget, my dear, I have been living in this house alone, save the help, for quite some time.” she tells me. Though she always assures me she enjoys my company the most. I have enjoyed many visits with her equally outspoken friends. I laugh freely around them.

            When I stop by that particular day, she tells me what she thinks of Mr. Marvel.

            “If my hands still worked properly I would ring that boy’s neck.”

            “I do not doubt it, Sae.”

 

* * *

 

            Madge and I go one morning to fetch flowers from Haymitch’s hot house for Sae as she has recently not been feeling well. She complains of being stuck in her bedroom and fusses at all the servants until they take her out onto the porch or even further in the garden. I am sure she will be delighted by our efforts bring the outdoors to her, and if she is not, at least her servants shall be. We choose the brightest colors we can find.

            Effie seems to be looking for us from the front porch as we come around the bend. She is practically bouncing on her feet by the time we make it to the steps.

            “Effie, dear, what is the matter?”

            She takes the flowers from us. “Miss Cartwright is in the sitting room.”

            I walk past her without another word, Madge following close behind. I smooth my skirts and place my bonnet upon the hooks by the door, then tilting my chin up just a notch, I walk into the sitting room.

            There is Miss Cartwright, browsing the room with her silk dress ruffling around her. She turns with a sly smile, bending at the waist slightly to greet us, “Miss Everdeen. Mrs. Hawthorne.”

            I curtsy back. “Miss Cartwright. How surprising to see you. Shall I fetch us some tea?”

            “No need. I am here strictly on business.”

            I purse my lips. “Please do be seated then. And just what business is it which brings you here?”

            I can see her give Madge a stare, seemingly wanting her to leave but not being audacious enough to voice it. She takes her time, removing her gloves and bonnet and laying them carefully on the table before sitting on the settee. She fusses over her dress for a moment more before daintily clearing her throat. “Mr. Marvel was in quite the state when he spoke to me days ago.”

            “Oh? What about?”

            “Oh come now, Miss Everdeen, you are choosing to feign ignorance as to what transpired between the two of you?” She lets out an amused laugh.

            “Not ignorance, no. I am simply wondering if he felt inclined to tell the truth or to embellish the conversation with falsehoods.”

            “He declared that you and Mr. Mellark have an understanding.”

            I am careful to watch her face at the next words I say. “Indeed we do.”

            She falters a moment. “No one was aware.”

            “On the contrary. My immediate family is aware, as well as Mrs. Sherbourne and the Hawthornes. And now Mr. Marvel and you are aware, which in turn means the entirety of the village shall know.”

            “Are you claiming I am a gossip?”

            “Precisely.”

            She straightens her already perfect posture more and adjusts her skirt again.

            I continue on. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me as to why Mr. Marvel claimed Mr. Mellark had written to you.”

            She diverts her eyes away from mine. “When I heard Mr. Mellark was in Yorkshire with Lord Snow, I wrote to request an invite to stay. It is none of your concern.”

            “I am making it my concern. And did Mr. Mellark reply? That is indeed too bold of a request to go unanswered.”

            “He did.”

            I wait for her to continue but Effie strolls in holding a letter. This is particularly odd, as Effie sees it as rude to interrupt when guests are present. The penmanship on the front tells me from whom the letter has come and I am at once aware why she has done this.

            Ignoring Delly’s presence, I open the letter from Peeta.

            He starts with his excitement to have received my letter and extends his thanks for keeping him in the loop on what is going on in the Seam. There towards the bottom, as if he can read my mind even through the miles that separate us, is the mention of Miss Cartwright.

_How interesting that you should inform me of Miss Cartwright. She contacted me not too long after my arrival here in Yorkshire. She expressed her wish to come and stay with me here at Panem Estates. Her excuse was that she wished to see all the diversions that the town had to offer. I responded quickly, stating that it was inappropriate for me to invite a guest to a home that is not my own and while I am working. I may have even remarked that it was disrespectful to you, as well._

He ends with _Yours, Peeta_. Those two words cover me like a blanket and warm me down to my toes.

            “It seems as if Mr. Mellark has answered my question in his letter.” I stand from my seat. “Perhaps it is best, Miss Cartwright, that you leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

            She stands but her movement seems to open a torrent of emotion she is incapable of subduing. I have clearly made her feel like a fool and she intends to do the same to me. “Why is it that all the men in this town find you desirable? YOU! And of course you won’t have them. You’re not even particularly pretty! You have no money and you are hardly educated. A crippled bachelor should have been a guarantee for me, but of course he wants you, too. You return the affections, of course you do! Now that I am at the bottom of the barrel of eligible men, you’ve decided you actually favor one.”

            I take a step towards her. “Never again are you to speak of Peeta that way. Ever.”

            Delly is quite riled now and my indifference to her fit seems to make her angrier. I am immune to them mostly as I have seen more of her tantrums than I care to.

            “What is it about you, Miss Everdeen,” she chides, “that have men handing out proposals? Your inferiority is well known in this town, after all, no matter how you choose to ignore it. Perhaps it is the need to save you, to save you from your uncle’s faulty cover-up of your father’s indiscretions and your mother’s descent into insanity.”

            “You hold your tongue, Delly,” I say through gritted teeth.

            “Oh! Have I hit a nerve?” She mocks me with a slight smile. “Is that what it takes to get the stoic Miss Everdeen to respond? To talk of your past, your upbringing?”

            “These are the words of a lady?”

            “I am a lady, Miss Everdeen, one of good breeding and fortune. I am a lady of proper upbringing. My father was not a compulsive and poor gambler whose next win was more important than his daughters. My mother is not crazed and a recluse, caring for her well-being more than her daughters. And now look, they’ve left you, again, to cope on your own. Now what have you got left, hmm? A drunk. A high-strung maid. A sister who does not care enough to stay. And a mutilated excuse of a man to marry.”

            I have never been as tense as I am while she speaks. I feel my chest constrict in pain and my hand twitch in temptation. Before I can form the thought clearly, Madge pushes past me and, quite firmly, smacks the smirk clear off of Delly’s face. Delly recoils in astonishment and I feel my own eyes go wide.

            Madge seizes Delly’s arms in a tight grip. “Hear me now, you revolting twit, you know nothing of being a friend, a daughter or a lady. If you so much as utter a cross word about the Everdeens or Mr. Mellark again, I shall strike the other cheek.” Madge’s voice is low and menacing. She lets go of Delly’s arms with a jerk.

            I am vaguely aware of Effie at the door leading from the kitchen and Haymitch at the entryway, just back from town. I am unsure of how much they heard but it seems it is enough for them to have the same look of surprise as I.

            Delly runs from the house clutching her cheek.

            Haymitch walks into the sitting room, placing himself in his usual armchair. He casually opens the book he had been reading earlier and with his eyes trained on the pages before him, states, “That girl is going to tattle to her father. I’m not saying she did not deserve it, but there may be hell to pay for that satisfaction I’m sure you feel right now, Mrs. Hawthorne.” He smiles then but never looks at us.

 

* * *

 

            Madge and I are kept in suspense for two whole days. Not one word is uttered of the confrontation, not even about town. In fact, everything seems quite normal.

On the third day after the incident, while we wash and sort the summer berries we’ve picked for jam, Effie states, “Perhaps this has all passed and Miss Cartwright has realized the error of her ways.”

            I stop for a moment to think of the possibility of Delly being mortified so thoroughly that she ceases to utter an untruth again. It is laughable. “Perhaps,” I reluctantly tell Effie. The look on Madge’s face seems to deem it impossible too.

            The knocker on the front door bangs loudly, echoing through the house. We hear Haymitch’s footsteps come down the stairway followed by the door opening and the very distinct voice of Mr. Clayton Cartwright.

            Effie’s lips twist into an odd shape, “Oh.”

            Haymitch comes to fetch us, never saying anything but keeping a smirk firmly in place. We wipe our hands as best as we can on our aprons before depositing them on the counters. We follow my uncle into the sitting room. Mr. Cartwright remains in the entryway for a word with my uncle while we take our seats. Miss Cartwright sits in the very spot she had on her last visit, a snobbish smile spread across her pink cheeks. The silence is deafening. It is beyond comprehension why her father would be here if he knew the horrible things she said. Alas, I am certain he does not, that Delly has more likely whitewashed over the hurtful bits. Her poor father has always been at her mercy. Delly must only say “Jump,” and I’m sure her father would ask, ‘How high?”

            We exchange pleasantries bluntly once the two men enter. Haymitch chooses to lean against the curio in the corner of the room as if he is merely a fly on the wall.

            “There is no doubt why I am here. My dearest daughter has informed me of an offense that happened a few days ago. I have come with the intention of reprimanding the two of you,” Mr. Cartwright lets out a sigh, “but I think myself a fair man, a logical man. Mrs. Hawthorne has never been a lady of misconduct. A sharp tongue, yes, but I do not believe she would strike someone. And you, Miss Everdeen are so guarded and private. Delly has informed me that you have discredited her…”

            Delly cannot hold her tongue it seems, “That’s right. They accused me of not being a lady and all but called me a liar.”

            He turns his attention back to us. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Abernathy just now and requested a private audience with Judge Undersee yesterday afternoon. Both gentlemen have said I should speak with the both of you. They seem to both trust your judgment and they both seemed confident in your ability to set things right.” He hesitates. “I believe my daughter to be a lovely person, one of gratitude and decorum. I must ask what was so hurtful.”

            I see Madge curl her fingers into her palms to make a fist. I place my hand over them as if to loosen them.

            “Mr. Cartwright,” I begin, “Mrs. Hawthorne and I were certain of your visit once Miss Cartwright exclaimed she would tell her father. It’s no secret you have your daughter’s best interest at heart, even when…well, pardon me for speaking openly, but even when it is not deserved. She has caused a dishonor, speaking of my father and mother in a way that is unforgivable. She has insulted my suitor, Mr. Mellark all the while not displaying any of the decorum _you_ seem to think she posseses.”

            He holds his hand up to stop me, “Mr. Mellark is your suitor?” He asks the question slowly, punctuating each word. He turns to Delly, who is not looking at her father but is looking as if she is boiling.

            “He is. He has been in pursuit of me almost since the moment he arrived. I’m sure your daughter has given you a reason to believe he was interested in her.” I look sternly at Miss Cartwright then, “I assure you he is not.”

            Mr. Cartwright folds his hands over one another in his lap and purses his lips. There is a long moment of thinking. I look over at Madge who has a very satisfied smirk on her face.

            “If I may so bold to ask,” Mr. Cartwright questions, “what was said of your parents?”

            I look to Delly again. She looks to be near tears. I wonder what she thinks about telling her father now. Did she regret it? I am almost sure of it. Does she regret the hurtful things she said to me? It’s possible now that her father seems to be in shock of the allegations? I almost feel pity for her.

            Almost.

            “I do not wish to go into a great amount of detail, I’m sure you can understand that, Mr. Cartwright. She spoke of my father’s less than honorable addiction and my mother’s failure to cope with his death. She then proceeded to call Mr. Mellark…mutilated was it, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

            Madge nods once, “Indeed she did, Miss Everdeen.”

            Mr. Cartwright pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is this the truth Delly?”

            “Papa, I…”

            He asks a bit more sternly, “Is this the truth?”

            “I…I did not intend…for it to be _that_ hurtful.”

            I grip Madge’s hand harder to keep her in place. We wait for Mr. Cartwright to speak again. Delly starts to fidget.

            “Mrs. Hawthorne, Miss Everdeen I am…I am truly sorry about what has transpired between the three of you.” His face seems purple from embarrassment. He stands then and calls for Delly. She scrambles after him, keeping her face tucked downward. Haymitch shows them to the door.

            I stare after them. After years of hearing the threat of a visit from Mr. Cartwright from Delly, I’m almost dissatisfied with the outcome.

            Madge and I stare at one another for a moment. She laughs, “The odds seem to be in our favor lately.”

            I let out a breath I was not aware I was holding. “It would seem so.”

* * *

 

            I say a final farewell to Madge a few days after our meeting with the Cartwrights. I urge her to go home to Gale, to be properly with her husband.

            “But if you need me…”

            “Madge, my dear, you have been a most faithful friend. I shall never be able to repay you for this. Or for Gale who has put up with a wife who is scarcely at home for more than a week or two.”

            “No matter. I would easily do it all over again.” She scrutinizes me, a small smile dancing at her lips. “You seem different, Miss Everdeen.”

            “I _feel_ different.”

            “Is it safe to say, dear friend, that sometimes participating in the gossip _can_ have a positive outcome?”

            “Now, now, only when it is the truth,” I remark.

            “Perchance you also think trading wits with the likes of Delly and Mr. Marvel is…enjoyable?” she quirks.

            “You make it sound like sport!”

            We burst into fits of laughter. Maybe, just maybe, I felt satisfied with both confrontations.

 

* * *

 

            The first of August is coming quickly. It has been nearly three months since I have seen Peeta. I read over his letters and scold myself for any doubt I made him feel. The orange of the sunset that he is so fond of washes over the letter I begin to create in the study. I tell him everything from Mr. Marvel’s allegations to Delly’s tantrum, omitting specific descriptions used, to being wrongly confronted by Mr. Cartwright and the look of complete and utter astonishment on Delly’s face. I tell him of the things that Madge and I have done to pass the time and of the letters Prim sends to me almost daily _. ‘It reads like a journal!’_ I write.

            As I continue on to my third piece of parchment, I realize that although I’ve told him everything that has unfolded recently, it does not seem complete. I want more than an exchange of events and dialogue. All these words have no meaning really. Without hesitation, I begin a new line. The words form in the ink, it seems, before I have even thought them.

 

_I regret sending you away that day. The last I saw of your face was forlorn and detached, not at all the Peeta I know and am so fond of._

_It will not do._

_I miss your smile: the way it would crinkle the corners of your eyes and grow so wide that I was sure your face would split in two. I miss the laugh that would come with that grin when you found something amusing or silly._

_I miss your wit: the way you could always find the words that needed to be said and let them roll off your tongue._

_I miss the look of adoration I would find in your eyes when we exchanged secrets._

_I miss the way the ends of your hair would curl when the air was thick and damp._

_I miss the clicking of your cane. For the noise meant you were coming to me or you were beside me._

_I miss the way your cheeks bloomed pink when I touched your arm or your hand._

_I miss the warmth of your body as you would press up against me in embrace._

_I miss the breath that would fall upon my neck when you were that near and the shiver that would crawl down my spine._

_I miss the way my mouth would go dry when you would look to my lips. Oh, how I wanted you to moisten them with your lips…with your tongue._

_I miss you terribly, Peeta._

_Yours, Katniss_


	10. Flash, Flicker, Ignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss' letter sets things into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thanks (as always) to my lovely, punctuation-correcting beta, katnissinme. She is just so very good at this.
> 
> And a thanks to you, the reader, for your patience. If you'd like to hang around in between chapters come see me on Tumblr (erin-babbit.tumblr.com)

The rain just will not stop.

            Large drops have been falling for a whole day now, preceded by two days of a bothersome drizzle. I sit by my bedroom window, my chin cradled in my palms, listening to the steady rhythm. I have been hoping all day it would cease so I may take a walk, despite Effie claiming she would faint if I drug my dress through the slush. It is normally twilight at this time, but with the heavy weather, it is far darker. The rains have brought a startling coolness to the air that makes me pull my robe a bit tighter. I run my fingers through my damp hair and create a simple braid down my back for sleeping. Haymitch has long been in bed and I heard Effie’s creaking door downstairs not long ago. But just as last night and the night before, I find it difficult to sleep. The words in my letter to Peeta seem to chant themselves in my head.

            I decide to go down to the library to find a book to occupy my time. With candle in hand I creep down stairs and into the room to the right. My uncle’s library is quite small compared to most. It was built after Prim, my mother and I came to live here. It was part of his study, which used to hold just a few measly shelves of literature. He did it as sort of a gift to us, and while he grumbled the entire time construction was going on, it seemed he brought home a new book every day to fill it. It remains one of the kindest gestures that anyone has ever done for me.

            I make my way to the corner, behind a pair of high back chairs. I am unsure of how these books came to find a home here, but they are quite obviously hidden by Effie or Haymitch. The spines do not reveal titles, but I know what each one holds: stories of passion and erotic encounters with attentive men and lush women. I look around out of guilt to see if anyone is peering over my shoulder. It is absurd really-I’m more than old enough to read these books. I believe society has tried to make me feel otherwise.

            I settle back upstairs under the covers, leaving my robe on for warmth. With the wind howling and the rain coming in sheets, I begin to read about a woman of high esteem who seduces a servant boy. I bite my lip through most of their encounters and the tension that builds between the two characters. It seems as my heart beats faster, the storm churns louder. I am just to the part when the stable boy begins to lift the skirts of the woman against the kitchen counter when a banging startles me, causing the book to fall from my fingers. The banging is the familiar sound of the knocker on our front door. I nervously twist my hands together as I wonder who could be so frantically knocking in this sort of weather and at this late hour. I hear Haymitch stumbling from his room, his voice ringing, “One moment!”

            As I climb from the bed and into my slippers, I hear the noisy door of Effie’s room as well. Deciding to join them, I creep across my room and slip out into the hallway. I stand at the top of the stairs as Haymitch opens the heavy door.

            “Boy, what in the Lord’s name are you doing here like this?” he asks.

            My uncle’s form shifts to reveal the stranger at the door.

            Which turns out to be no stranger at all.

            It is a very drenched Peeta Mellark.

            His coat is missing, making his cream-colored shirt under his vest mold to the muscles in his arms. The blonde of his hair is darkened from the water and falls in unkempt waves on his forehead.

            I do not remember my feet moving down the stairs. I am suddenly in front of him as he steps over the threshold. I fling myself at him in total abandon. He clutches me to his body tightly, his cane dangling from his fist. The rain that has soaked into his clothing makes mine damp in turn. I only pull away when I hear Effie’s shocked gasp. I will no doubt receive a lecture on the complexities of acting lady-like later.

            We pull away from one another, smiling like fools.

            Effie puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “Why don’t you go get a fire started in the sitting room, Miss Everdeen? I shall fetch some hot tea. Oh, and Mr. Abernathy, see if you can gather some clothing that is too small for you.”

            Haymitch goes to say something smart but Effie continues on, “Let’s not pretend you have not put on weight now, shall we? I’ve put some items in the trunk at the foot of your bed.”

            We disperse ourselves to start our tasks, Peeta following me. I bend to put the kindling into the fireplace but Peeta stops me, “Here let me.”

            I take his hand and lead him to the settee. “Sit, I insist. I can manage.” I smile again as he brings my hand to his mouth. His lips are cold but it does nothing to extinguish the heat spreading across my body.

            I start the fire as I have a hundred times before but my hands are unsteady. I can feel his gaze following my every move. I stand to face him as Effie brings the tray in. Haymitch soon follows, tossing a pair of slacks, a bath towel and a much-faded shirt next to Peeta. We stand in an uncomfortable silence then.

            Effie attempts to take a seat but Haymitch stops her. “Let us leave these two alone, shall we?”

            A horrified look graces Effie’s prim face. “Mr. Abernathy, you cannot be serious?”

            “I am.”

            “You would like us to leave Miss Everdeen, in her night clothes, and Mr. Mellark, who will be changing, in the same room? Together? Unattended?”

            My uncle quirks his eyebrow, “That is indeed what I am proposing.”

            Her look is challenging.

            Haymitch rubs his hand across his face. “Miss Trinket, we are in a private home, not a public forum. Not to mention that Katniss is a grown woman. Just let them be.” He gestures with his hands for her to proceed before him. She sets off with her arms crossed in front of her. Haymitch turns to close the double doors, a smirk playing across his lips.

            Peeta stands then, abandoning his cane, and opens his mouth to speak.

            I do not give him a chance to start. “You must be quite cold. Let us get you dry and in comfortable clothing, shall we?” The clutch I have on my robe falls and the fabric parts. I move to push his waistcoat from his shoulders as he stares down at me. It’s as if his gaze holds weight and I want to crumble beneath it. He will mention the letter, I’m sure. I blush even thinking about his reaction when he read it. Did he read it multiple times? Did it send a thrill through him to see the words as it did for me to write them? I begin to slip the shell buttons through the slots of his shirt. A slight smattering of light hair is revealed as the fabric parts. Once I am to the bottom, I pull the end of the cloth out of his trousers and nudge that from his shoulders as well. I take a step back.

            The gleam from the fire bounces off the remaining dampness from the rain. His skin is pale, like ivory and I wonder for a moment if it tastes like cream. He is lean at the waist but broad at the shoulders and I feel my mouth go slack at the sight. I allow my eyes to fall to the faint ridges of his stomach and farther still to another trail of golden hair leading into his trousers. No matter how many explicit novels I have read, my imagination could never create the figure I see before me.

            “Katniss?” His voice comes through the drumming in my head.

            I jerk my head up. He limps the few steps I took away from him and takes my fingertips in his hands.

            His voice is just above a whisper, “You wrote that you missed me.”

            “I did.”

            “So you really…did…miss me?” His head bends to mine and his breaths come out in puffs across my cheeks.

            “I did. Very much.”

            It seems as though time has stopped and I do not mind it. His eyes bore into mine, lustful and eager. I involuntarily lick my lips and his gaze flicks to my mouth.

            “Katniss.” It sounds like a plea. The sound of my name falling through heavy breaths and off his lips makes me feel divine. It has been too many months since I have heard the melody of his voice and I desperately need him to keep speaking.

            This time, however, my dear Peeta seems at a loss for words. I feel my body sway and my breasts, cloaked in my thin cotton nightgown, brush against his bare chest. It is the match that lights the fire.

            “Katniss,” he repeats, his hands engulfing my waist underneath the silk of my robe and bunching my gown. “I am afraid…that…that if I do not feel your lips against mine, I may combust.”

            The heat that spreads through my body from his declaration is instant. My retaliation is to tip the weight of my body forward on my toes and whisper against his lips the one word that I needed to say each time he would look at me like this. “Please…”

            He brings his hands to the sides of my face, his fingertips brushing my cheekbones tenderly before bringing his lips to mine.

            If I were ever happy before this kiss, I cannot recall it. This touch from his lips sends a spiral of desire that I feel from my eyelids and downward through my toes, which curl in my slippers. My hands find purchase along his shoulders which seems to urge him on. The slick heat of his tongue slides across my bottom lip, and with a whimper I taste him back.

            I am unsure if it is my feet or his that move me unsteadily to the wall. The molding digs into my back as he presses against me, and yet I still need him closer. My hands move down to the top of his trousers and I crush his lower half to me.  His next breath is taken in sharply.

            It is then that I feel his arousal pressed fully against me. I squeak in surprise.

            He pulls away slightly. “Please forgive me. I…I did not mean…to…” His eyes are downcast.

            “Please do not apologize. I beg you.” I move my head, dipping to catch his sight, “I have never felt more desired…”

            He speaks swiftly, “I _do_ desire you…in a very ungentlemanly way, Katniss.”

            It is my turn to cast my eyes to the floor. He pulls my hands up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle before saying, “But I also adore you more than anyone I’ve ever known. Katniss, I…I love you. I became smitten with you when you told me you didn’t care for dancing,” he laughs nervously. “Truth be told, I fell hopelessly for you when I saw you climb your tree. Your spirit…your laughter…your strength,” he shakes his head slightly; “I did not have a chance. I was a goner almost the moment I met you.”

            My mouth twitches into a smile. I then unceremoniously, cast myself at him, causing him to lose his footing and fall with a grunt onto the couch.

            “Oh! Your leg! I’m so sorry…”

            His voice sounds raspy. “I find it difficult to be bothered when you are perched upon my lap in your night clothes.”

            My cheeks flame at his comment.

            “I should take my leave, my love.”

            “I do not wish you to go just yet. Let me get you the dry clothes and then…would you…”

            He smirks, “Would I…?”

            “Stay? Just for a little while?”

            I turn my back while he dresses, twisting my gown in my hands to withstand the temptation to turn around. We spread his damp clothing out on the hearth to dry. Peeta settles in on the couch, propping his feet up on the next cushion, and spreads his arms out. I go to him like a magnet.

            “Does this mean you have finished your portrait?” I inquire, my cheek upon his chest.

            “Alas, I have not. I am afraid I have two more months to spend in the company of Lord Snow.”

            “How ever did you get away?”

            “I claimed sickness of a fictional family member.”

            “And how long will this relative be ill?” I jest.

            “I’m afraid a few days at most. His Lordship was not very pleased to have a stutter in his plans but I persisted.”

            He pulls the fabric knot from my hair and runs his fingers from my scalp and down through my braid. Between the warmth of his chest, the crackling of the fire and the motion of his hand through my hair, my eyelids grow heavy.

            I slip into a most contented sleep.

 

 

 

            Dawn breaking through the windows wakes me from my slumber. The sun shines brightly, replacing the gloom of days passed. Peeta’s heavy breaths assure me he is still asleep.  I become aware of our legs tangled and his arm wrapped securely around my waist. I smile, drunk off the heat of his body. I lie watching the flecks of dust float through the beams of light and just let myself be.

            “KATNISS EVERDEEN!” The shrill voice of Effie pulls me from my reverie and has me bolting upright in seconds. Peeta thrashes upward, still half asleep and we both tip ourselves onto the floor in a heap. We look to the doorway to see Effie, freshly dressed and coifed, and menacing at the same time.

            “What in the name of all that is decent is he still doing here? Haymitch! Haymitch Abernathy! You get down here this instant! He stayed all night, ALL NIGHT!” She is pacing between the stairway and the sitting room, her hands clutched into fists at her sides.

            Peeta and I scramble to right our clothes and smooth our hair. Our cheeks are so red, we look ill. He reaches for my hand and nods at me reassuringly.

            My uncle comes tumbling down the stairs, still belting his robe. “To what do I owe this screeching arousal, hmmm?”

            Effie points to us. “Look! Look at them! Snuggled together on the couch as if they are wed! I will not have it Mr. Abernathy, I will not!”

            He puts his hands up defensively, “Just hold onto your skirts, Effie.” Haymitch shuffles to stand in front of us and speaks in a whisper so as not to rile Effie further. “Mr. Mellark, I understand that when you are with someone you love, time gets away from you. I do. But I was hoping you’d have enough sense to be gone before the tightly-wound housekeeper arose.” He claps Peeta on the shoulder, “Not to mention, I am a little surprised to see you still here myself. A little indecent, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Mellark?”

Peeta scrambles. “My apologies, sir. I did not mean to…”

Haymitch holds his hand up to stop him. “All is forgiven because, frankly, it is far too early for a speech and I trust you are a man that learns from his mistakes. Now, don’t test my patience by upsetting my housekeeper again. I’ve got to go calm her now, no thanks to you two or she will hide my liquor.” He turns towards Effie. “All is well, my dear Ms. Trinket. Katniss’ virtue is still intact.”

            I pale at his choice of words and Effie looks livid.

            “Now, if you would be so kind as to set an extra place for breakfast for Mr. Mellark and see that his clothes get pressed.”

            “Mr. Abernathy, I think he should leave!” Effie protests.

            “Now, now. He cannot leave, wearing too big clothes this early in the morning. People will talk. But if we make it seem as though he came early to have breakfast with us and he leaves in his own clothes, I think we could keep the hens’ mouths in this village to a dull roar.” Haymitch looks at Effie expectantly.

            With her lips tight, she walks over in front of us to retrieve Peeta’s clothing. Stopping at the door, she states, “Breakfast will be served within an hour. Miss Everdeen, you and Mr. Mellark are welcome to freshen up upstairs… _separately_.”

 

* * *

 

            The three days Peeta stays goes by quite quickly. But we make them count. To my disappointment, and at Effie’s insistence, we get no more nights together. Peeta goes home after he’s had dinner with us, always with a whisper of “I love you”.  Even after just one night in my love’s arms, I find it difficult to sleep as I used to. I crave his warmth.

            While we do steal kisses in private, none gather the momentum of our first one.  I am not very lady-like in the way I long for his body to once again be pressed against mine. Effie would give me the scolding of a lifetime if she knew.

            People in the village seem in high spirits at Peeta’s return. They ask of Lord Snow and Yorkshire. Everyone seems to genuinely adore him, which in turn makes me adore him more.

            When he leaves this time, it is a happy farewell.

            And perhaps, for the first time in my life, I think of my future: one with Peeta by my side and perhaps children playing in the fruit trees at the Wheat House. It is clear as crystal and I am hopeful.

 


End file.
